


Old Habits Die Hard

by Snampoo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bi!Dean, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Dean, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bisexual Male Character, British English, British grammar, Class Differences, Dean is in denial about his sexuality, Destiel - Freeform, Drugs, Drunk John Winchester, Fluff, High School, Homophobia, Hurt Castiel, I Blame Tumblr, I Don't Even Know, I can spell, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mary is still dead, May feature some Cas POV in the future, My First Destiel Fanfic, No Hunting, Not Beta Read, POV Dean Winchester, Sam and John don't get on, Slash, Slow Build, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Teen!Castiel, Teen!Dean, Teenage Castiel/Teenage Dean Winchester, Teenage Dean Winchester, Teenage Sam Winchester, Weed, With some americanisms, hurt!castiel, nice, teen!Sam, that rhymed, unimaginative chapter titles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-19 15:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3614715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snampoo/pseuds/Snampoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak had been the best of friends, but when Cas' overbearing mother moved her family away, the boys were left wondering if they'd ever see each other again. Jump to eleven years later, and the boys are unexpectedly reunited. But this time, things are different. A lot can happen in a decade; people change, and so do feelings. Destiel. High School AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So this is my first ever Supernatural fic & first fic on AO3 and, as luck would have it, I'm British, so I have tried to use Americanisms (i.e. 'Mom' rather than 'Mum') as SPN's American. Nevertheless, I have stuck to British spellings due to personal preference. I do not in any way own 'Supernatural' or any of its characters. Nor do I own Pink Floyd and Asia's 'Heat of the Moment'. Thanks, and please review to let me know your thoughts! :)

“Dean. DEAN! Get up!” said the voice in Dean’s ear. From the audible pre-pubescent squeakiness, he guessed it was Sammy.

“What the hell, Sammy? I was asleep!” Dean muttered angrily whilst turning his body to face the peeling wall beside him.

“Dean, it’s 8:30! I’m gonna be late, AGAIN!” Sam exclaimed anxiously.

“Oh fuck. Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?”

“I thought you’d already be awake!”

“Shit okay, sorry dude, just let me get dressed and I’ll meet you downstairs in five.” With that, Sam stormed out and left Dean alone to his thoughts. Little Sammy was growing up so quickly that Dean could hardly believe he was already at his moody teenager phase. Hell, he wasn’t even a teenager yet, but Sam had always acted older than his age. It was unsurprising, Dean thought, when you looked back upon his life so far. When Sammy was just six months old, their Mom had died in a car accident. She’d been taking Sam to the doctors’ for a check-up, when a car came out of nowhere and swerved right into the driving seat, instantly killing Mary and leaving Sammy in a critical condition for several months. Sam eventually recovered, but John could never see eye-to-eye with him again. Once Sammy had gotten better, John’s attention shifted from making sure his son was okay, to inwardly blaming him for his wife’s death. John didn’t know his sons had realised this, but how couldn’t they, when John seemed to applaud Dean on all his successes, yet treat Sam like a disappointment to his wife’s memory every time he tried to do something right.

At that, Dean snapped out of his thoughts with a sigh and stumbled around his room for some clothes. His wardrobe was a mess and, despite his appearance usually being one of the only things Dean outwardly gave a damn about, he ended up just dragging on whatever clothes he could find on his bedroom floor.

“Come on, let’s go Sammy.” Dean said as he came down the stairs and ushered Sam out of the door.

“Aren’t you gonna have any breakfast?” Sam asked concernedly.

“S’fine, I’ll get something from the vending machines at school.” Dean replied nonchalantly, swinging into the driver’s side of his Dad’s ’67 Chevy Impala. Dean was supposed to wait until he was eighteen to be able to use his Dad’s treasured vehicle, but John stopped caring about those sorts of things a long time ago.

The drive was silent, apart from the loud thumping which was emanating from the stereo as Dean sang along to Asia’s ‘Heat of the Moment’. Sam had probably heard this song over a hundred times and had hated it every single instance. It reminded Sam horribly of his father’s music, which was of a very similar style to Dean’s. He noted that the only time John played his rock music was when he was drunk.

“Got everything?” Dean asked as he pulled up just outside the middle school.

“Yeah, thanks.” Sam replied, stumbling out of the car whilst slinging his battered backpack upon his shoulder.

“’Kay, see ya later,” Dean told him, before driving off in the direction of the high school. Dean didn’t know why he was even going to school today. He had no reason to; his Dad was out of town, he had no work due in and it was a fine, sunny day. But in reality, he had nothing better to do and truancy was, after all, illegal.

So, Dean found himself in his school’s parking lot. He was ten minutes late, but present all the same. He locked up the Impala and inspected his clothing in its reflection. He was wearing an old pair of sneakers, his favourite denim jeans, Sammy’s amulet, an old black Pink Floyd tee (a.k.a. his ‘stoner’ tee, not that his family knew this) and a navy plaid shirt. Despite his hurried dressing only a half hour earlier, he looked pretty good. He’d forgotten his trademark leather jacket, but that wasn’t even his anyway, so what did it matter. He guessed his ‘bad boy’ image could be compromised for just one day. Besides, he had the whole ‘just woken up’ look that the chicks seemed to dig to make up for it.

With that thought on his mind, Dean strode into school, a confident smile interrupting his face. It was rare that he felt this jovial, but he was going to embrace it nevertheless. Dean continued in this mood as he walked down the corridor to his classroom for registration. However, as soon as he opened the door to the room, he realised that his awful timing had once again made its mark this morning.

“Sorry I’m la-,” Dean began, striding into the room.

“Mr. Winchester! What do you think you’re doing, intruding on registration without knocking first!” Miss. Grayson demanded. She wasn’t usually this strict about these sorts of things, Dean pondered.

“Hello? Earth to Dean? I was trying to introduce the class to a new student when you very rudely interjected.”

“Wh- a new student?” and at that moment, Dean’s eyes fell upon a rather small looking teenage boy who was standing awkwardly next to Miss. Grayson. Immediately he felt guilty. If his dress sense and timid but determined demeanour were anything to go by, this kid was a straight-up Mommy’s boy; ‘I mean, what sort of kid these days wears a _trench coat_?’ Dean wondered. But there was something about this boy; his presence was almost ethereal in its nature; broken only by the piercing blue eyes which seemed to dominate his stature. For some inexplicable reason, Dean couldn’t shake off the strange feeling of familiarity that he felt when looking at the boy. He was fascinating.

“Oh, uh…,” Dean was almost lost for words; a rare occurrence, “um, sorry I’ll just, uh, sit down then,” he stuttered uncomfortably as he made his way to his desk at the back of the room.

“No, Dean, I think you’ll be sitting at the front today. I can’t have you disrupting my lessons any further by any inevitable chit-chatting with your friends,” said Miss. Grayson, smiling smugly to herself as if she’d just cracked the enigma code. Dean glared at her, but was far too distracted by this new student to try dispute her order. She seemed disheartened by this.

“Anyway,” she continued as Dean took one of the vacant front seats, “as I was saying, we have a new student today, would you like to tell us a little about yourself?” she gestured to the boy.

“Uh, hi. I- uh I’m seventeen and I’m from Massachusetts but I’ve moved around a lot. So… yeah,” he said, glancing nervously at Miss Grayson, who stared at him expectantly, “Oh, and I almost forgot,” he continued clumsily, “my name is Castiel.”

‘CRAP!’ Dean thought. It couldn’t be, could it? _The_ Castiel? Surely not?! But then again, it wasn’t exactly a common name, and the kid did seem kind of familiar. But how could it be?

“Castiel _what_?” a kid at the back asked.

“Uh, Novak,” he replied, slightly taken aback, “Castiel Novak.”

Shit. It was him, alright.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

It was an excruciating first period as Dean tried to figure out if Castiel knew who he was. Despite Cas being seated on the desk next to Dean, there was no direct eye contact made between the pair. It was a truly bizarre situation; Dean hadn’t seen this boy since the Novaks had moved away from the neighbourhood eleven years ago, when Dean was six. But Dean didn’t even live in that place anymore. In fact, he’d relocated approximately five times since. When he and Castiel had been neighbours, they were living in Charlotte, North Carolina. Dean had since lived in Alabama, South Dakota, Arizona, Michigan and now Truman, Minnesota. The fact that Castiel just happened to be here after all these years seemed like an impossible coincidence.

As the bell finally rang to symbol the end of the lesson, Dean was at last able to grab his chance to talk to Castiel in the intermittent time between periods. “Castiel! Hey, Cas!” he shouted determinedly across the corridor. When Cas finally turned around, Dean was surprised to see an expression of reluctant recognition on his face.

“Um, Hi Dean,” he muttered, an embarrassed grimace curling around his features.

“So you remember me then?” Dean asked, exasperated and slightly confused.

“Of course I do,” he replied sincerely.

“Well that’s great, so why then did you just ignore me for that whole last period?”

“I-I- uh, well I may or may not have known in advance that you attend this school.”

“What?”

“I saw your Dad’s Impala in the parking lot through the window before you came into the classroom. I knew instantly that it must be you, because it still has the same registration and your Dad would never sell it.”

“Oh, well okay, that makes sense I guess. But you didn’t answer my question; why were you ignoring me?” Dean continued as the two boys walked down the hallway.

 “I’m sorry, Dean. It’s just… it feels kind of awkward. You know, after everything that happened,” Cas sighed resignedly.

“Oh,” Dean nodded, realising what Castiel was referencing, “but Cas, that was eleven years ago, surely your parents have forgotten and moved on by _now_?”

“Excuse me Dean, I must go to Geography now.”

“What? But- no, wait! Cas!”

But it was too late; Cas had already turned the corner into the Geography room.

“Dammit,” Dean muttered under his breath. There was no way in hell that Castiel was being honest with Dean. Why would his parents still have a problem with what happened? And Dean still didn’t know what Castiel was doing here in Minnesota. He knew Cas had moved a lot too, besides, this common feature had been what brought them together as friends in the first place all those years ago. But Cas had changed. He no longer seemed to be that naive, kind and head-strong boy he had been once before. No, Dean thought, something had happened to Castiel Novak. He could see it in his eyes as they had talked; despite their overpowering blue aura, they’d lost their spark, their innocence.

Dean was unable to find Cas the rest of the day. He must’ve been hiding out in the toilets, Dean thought as he made his way to the Impala in the parking lot. He then proceeded to rev up the engine and place his Bad Company tape into the cassette player. His music was the only thing providing him with any sanity today. Dean was lost in his thoughts about Castiel’s reappearance in his life as he made his way to Sam’s school to pick him up. Sure enough, Sam was waiting by the front gate, ready to go. But something was different today. Sam didn’t look particularly happy- he looked miserable, which was odd for someone who enjoyed school so much.

“Hey, you okay there, Sammy?” Dean asked as he trudged into the passenger seat.

“ _Don’t_ call me that.”

“Huh? But I’ve always called you Sammy!?” Dean exclaimed, bewildered.

“Yeah, well it’s embarrassing. I’m not a little kid anymore, Dean,” Sam huffed, looking thoroughly pissed.

“Okay, okay, no need to displace your pre-teen angst onto me. I’m doing you a favour by picking you up, and you’ll appreciate that or get out and walk home yourself!”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” Sam replied sardonically.

“Fine then, see how you like it. Get out.”

“Gladly,” and with that, Sam hopped out of the car and set off in the direction of their house alone. Dean was in shock. He hadn’t expected Sam to actually listen to him. There was definitely something up with that kid, but Dean had other things occupying his mind.

When Dean arrived home ten minutes later, he was surprised to see a light seeping out from under the living room door. Surely Sam couldn’t be back yet? Dean fervently opened the door to find John Winchester, no less, sitting on the couch watching the sports channel. Dean’s heart sank when he noticed the glass of whiskey in his hand.

“Dad? I thought you weren’t gonna be home for another couple of days?” Dean asked, stepping nervously closer to his father.

“Yeah, well… I came back early. Surprise!” He mumbled, clearly drunk.

“Uh- cool. Oh, and Dad, I hope you don’t mind, but I took the Impala out today for school.”

“Mmm,” he grumbled; too intoxicated to care, “So where’s my Sammy-boy, then?” he continued, slurring slightly.

“Uh, he, uh, wanted to walk home.”

“Huh? Sam ain’t that stupid.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t really up to him. I made him get out the car. Dad, he’s been getting real moody recently. I think something may be goin’ on up at the school,” Dean confided concernedly.

“That’s just teenagers for ya, Dean. You’ll know when you’re older and have kids of your own.”

Dean cringed at the thought, “No Dad, I think it’s more than that, I-“

“Eh, whatever, I’m sure he’s fine. Sam’s a smart kid. Don’t ya forget that.”

“If you say so, Dad,” Dean resigned, knowing the conversation couldn’t progress any further when John was in this state.

“Oh, and Dad, you’ll never guess who joined new at school today,” Dean started, deciding to change the topic of discussion.

“Who?” John asked, looking only mildly interested.

“Castiel Novak,” Dean said, nodding smugly at his father’s astonished expression.

“Seriously?” he questioned.

“Yeah. Crazy, right?”

“Sure is a coincidence if I ever saw one.”

At that moment, Dean heard a key turn in the lock of the front door and, a few short seconds later, Sam appeared at the living room doorway, his expression aghast.

“ _Dad?_ ” he mouthed at Dean anxiously.

“ _Yep_ ,” Dean mouthed back, before clearing his throat to talk properly, “Uh, Dad, Sam’s here.”

“Hey there, Sammy-boy! Come give your old man a hug!” said John, placing his glass down on the table and stumbling slightly to his feet. He then proceeded to squeeze tightly Sam, who stood there rather awkwardly, glancing knowingly at the whiskey on the table.

“Dad. You’re home early,” he said monotonously.

“Yup, ain’t it great?!”

“Sure thing, Dad. Uh- I’m gonna go upstairs now- got homework,” he replied brusquely, before making a swift exit from the scene. Dean could tell that Sam was not only nervous about his father being home, but also bewildered by the whole hugging situation. John hardly ever showed his sons affection, never mind just Sammy. Must be the alcohol, Dean thought to himself.

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna head up too, Dad, I’ve got homework too,” Dean added in an attempt to excuse himself from the scene.

“That’s great, son,” John replied with glazed-over eyes, obviously not having listened to a word Dean had just said.

As soon as Dean reached the solitude of his bedroom, he breathed a harsh sigh of relief. It was strange seeing John act pleasantly while under the influence. Dean couldn’t quite get his head around it. Nevertheless, it had been a long day, and all Dean wanted to do was take a nice, comfortable nap. Thus, he flopped onto his bed and let his body sink into the slightly worn-out mattress until he felt suitably enclosed. Man, what a weird day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own neither Supernatural nor Bad Company. I hope you guys enjoy and please review :)


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Dean woke up and stared at the ceiling, thankful it was Saturday and that he finally had some time to think about everything that had happened the previous day. Dean still couldn’t believe that _Castiel Novak_ had made a re-appearance in his life. Even though Cas had been one of many childhood friends, it was him whom Dean remembered the clearest. This was probably because of the incident which drove them apart, thought Dean, but Cas had always felt different to Dean’s other friends; the dynamic between them had been so unique and exciting. Dean had never met anyone like him since. It now saddened Dean to think of Castiel’s passive reaction to him the day before. He had definitely changed since Dean last saw him eleven years ago.

With a sigh, Dean heaved himself off his bed and dragged his feet as he made his way to the shower. He couldn’t just sit around all day; not only was the sun making a prominent appearance, but he had to do something to take his mind off Sam, his Dad and Castiel.

After having showered, he picked out his favourite leather jacket-denim jeans combo and grabbed some toast from the kitchen before hastily leaving so as to avoid any potential questions from his family. It was still early, and the mist-concealed sky was dotted pink. This was, in Dean’s opinion, the best part of the day. No-one was awake at home to question his meander, the birds were singing and the neighbourhood was almost completely empty. In spite of Dean’s intentions, he couldn’t help his mind wandering about what Cas was doing and what he was thinking. So naturally, his feet led him in the direction of the only source of information about Cas that he knew of; the school. Dean was usually in school on Saturdays to serve detention. There was just something about Dean which made him the perfect template on which teachers displaced their inner anger and midlife crises. Admittedly, however, Dean didn’t do himself any favours, what with his tendency to prank people and his usual tardiness. Therefore, when Dean strolled into school that morning, no-one even batted an eyelid. Making good use of his knowledge of how school ran on Saturdays, Dean knew that the Principal would be supervising detention; thus leaving his office free for snooping.

Sure enough, when he peeked apprehensively through the glass pane in the Principal’s door, his office was deserted and Dean proceeded to swagger into the room triumphantly. Conscious of how little time he had before the Principal would inevitably return, Dean set to work straight away- rummaging through filing cabinets, careful not to leave a folder out of place. However, it didn’t take long to locate Cas’ file, what with it being at the beginning of the ‘New Arrivals- Academic Year 1996-1997’ cabinet. Sure, it was thin, but that was only to be expected from someone who’d only just joined the school.  Dean began to read:

**Truman High School Pupil Record #10627**

**Name:** Castiel Novak

 **Date of Birth:** 6th February 1979, Massachusetts

 **Health notes:** Cannot participate in gym class due to spinal weakness.

 **Family notes:** Lives with mother, Naomi Novak and siblings Gabriel, Luke, Michael and Anna. Information on father unavailable.

 **Behavioural record:** Reports of truancy and bad behaviour at previous schools. Suspected problems at home.

 **Previous schools:**  Salem Tree Preschool, Massachusetts (1983-1984), Charlotte City Elementary, North Carolina (1984-1985), Richmond Town Elementary, Georgia (1985-1988), Idaho Falls Elementary, Idaho (1988-1991), Waterville Creek Middle School, Maine (1991-1993), Richmond High, Vermont (1993-1996).

 **Address:** 28 Melrose Avenue,

                 Truman,

                 Minnesota.

 

* * *

 

Dean was shocked. Where was Castiel’s father? He had met him before, so why wasn’t there any information about him? Furthermore, he found it hard to believe that goody-two-shoes Castiel Novak would ever misbehave nor have family problems. But the thing that stood out the most to Dean was the Health notes section. He couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt upon reading that. Dean then proceeded to use the Principal’s photocopier to recreate the document and he was just about to leave, when something else caught his eye:

**Truman High School Pupil Record #9467**

**Name:** Dean Winchester

 **Date of Birth:** 24th January 1979, Kansas

 **Health notes:** None.

 **Family notes:** Lives with father, John Winchester, and brother Samuel. Mother died in car accident when 4 years old.

 **Behavioural Record:** Usually late, frequently in detention for bad behaviour and incomplete homework. Allegations of truancy. Strained relationship with father suspected (reported by Miss P. Longcroft after a tense Parent-Teacher night, May 1995).

 **Previous schools:** Lawrence Preschool, Kansas (1983-1984), Charlotte City Elementary, North Carolina (1984-1986), Birmingham Grove Elementary, Alabama (1986-1989), Avondale Hill Elementary, Arizona (1989-1991), Detroit River Middle School (1991-1993).

 **Address:** 11John F. Kennedy Drive,

                Truman,

                Minnesota.

 

* * *

 

 _‘Strained relationship’_? Heh, took them long enough, Dean thought to himself; unimpressed by the staff’s lack of perception. Despite the file not containing anything of particular interest to Dean, he still appreciated the insight into how the teachers at the school viewed him. Dean didn’t like thinking about the relationship he had with his father; it brought back too many bad memories from throughout his childhood. He sighed resignedly and put the file back in the cabinet he’s first spotted it in. But, as he approached the door to leave, the handle began turning, and in walked the Principal.

“Dean?! What are you doing in here?” he demanded. It was time for Dean to turn his lying charm on.

“Oh, hello there Sir, I was just in the area, y’know, taking my usual Saturday morning stroll, when I remembered that I needed to tell you something,” he rambled, adopting a sad, wistful look so as to gain the Principal’s sympathy- a mean, but potentially achieveable feat, which appeared to have worked.

The Principal frowned pitifully, “Oh, right, well what is it? Is everything okay Dean?”

“Uh, no, not really. You see, I didn’t really know who else to talk to about this…” he trailed off, giving the man his best puppy-dog eyes.

“Well, I do always tell my students that I’m always available to talk. Hmm, okay. Go ahead.”

“It’s about my father, see, we have a… hmm, how do I put this? Um, we have a _strained relationship._ ”

“Ah, yes, I had picked up on some of the more obvious symptoms…” sighed the Principal. Dean frowned, wondering what exactly he meant. “You look confused, Dean- let me explain. I have noticed that your father is rarely present at school functions which you attend and that, when he is, he becomes increasingly concerned with the drinks bar and decreasingly concerned with you. If you don’t mind me saying, he comes off as a rather moody individual.”

Dean no longer felt like he was acting, for this conversation was far more intriguing than he thought it would be.

“Would you say you agree with me, or am I just over-analysing things here?” questioned the Principal, furrowing his brow.

“Uh, yeah, I guess. But he’s not always been like this,” Dean added hastily, trying to redeem his father slightly, “It all started after my Mom died.”

“Oh, yes, of course… How old were you, Dean?”

“Four. Almost five,” he replied, reciting an answer which had been rehearsed many times before.

“How terribly tragic. And you think he takes this out on you?”

“Uh, sometimes, I guess. But it’s more my little brother who has to put up with him,” Dean couldn’t believe his was telling all this to his _Principal_ of all people.

“Really? How come?”

“Well, I guess it’s ‘cause she was taking him to the doctor’s for a check-up when she had her accident. Sam survived, so naturally, he took his frustrations out on him. Still does today.”

“That’s an insightful analysis there, Dean. So tell me, what is it that triggered your visit today of all days, has something happened?” Shit, Dean needed to stop before he made his Dad sound like some sort of child abuser.

“What? Uh- no. I just needed to let it all out. Heh, it’s been a long week,” he smiled, making to get out of the chair he was sitting in and leave.

“Oh, you’re leaving?”

“Yep, sorry Sir, but I’ve got some errands to run. Thanks for the chat, though!” he replied brusquely, letting his charm take over once more.

“Okay, well any time, Dean,” the Principal said, looking utterly confused by what just happened.

 

* * *

 

Dean was finally able to breathe again when he exited the school. That was officially the weirdest 10 minutes of his life. Well, apart from having Cas make a reappearance in his life once again. Oh yeah, Cas! He’d almost forgotten the original reason he’d come to school in the first place. As creepy as it may sound, Dean now knew where Cas lived, and he had to somehow use this information to find out more about what Cas had been doing in the last eleven years.

And so, Dean jumped in his car, hit the stereo and set off for Melrose Avenue- a part of town he’d never yet visited, and thus was interested to see what it would be like. Melrose Avenue sounded like one of those places where the stereotypical Momma, Papa and their two darling children lived and enjoyed their apple pie lives in powder-blue panelled cottages with white-picket fences and perfectly-mown lawns.

He was not wrong.

Except, of course, Castiel’s ‘papa’ was no longer around and Dean didn’t know why. Furthermore, Cas was one of five, and, according to his file, it sounded like his life hadn’t been all that peachy.

Dean pulled up and parked just at the edge of the street; careful not to park near no. 28 for fear that Cas would recognise his car. It was a pleasant area; the sidewalks were overshadowed by leafy, fall-touched trees which swayed peacefully in the wind and there was a small gaggle of kids playing ball outside one of the houses. Yet, Dean hated it. It was exactly what he couldn’t have, and for that reason, he despised the whole thing. The conservative, middle-class air of the place made him want to puke. But, what with Castiel’s mother being oh-so very traditional, he was unsurprised.

Dean still didn’t quite know why he was here. All he knew was that he needed some answers and that he had no idea how to get them other than coming here. He trundled out of his car and headed straight for the trunk so that he could find and wear his hat, sunglasses and uncharacteristic jacket so as to disguise himself in case Castiel saw him walking down the street. Dean knew he was overreacting somewhat, but the disguise excited him and made him feel as if he were about to embark on some sort of secret agent mission, and he couldn’t contain the inner-child which was beginning to take over him.

‘I need to get out more,’ he thought dryly.

As Dean flattened his usually spiked-up hair, he realised that the only thing that could give away his identity now would be his distinctive bowlegs. But he doubted that anyone would really be paying any attention to those. Dean then made his way to no.28, where he noticed that the driveway was absent of cars and that all the lights were off. Even though it was daytime, most of the other houses on the street had at least one visible light on. Dean concluded that the family must be out.

Score.

Dean approached the fence between the drive and the back yard, and vaulted over it so as to gain access to the back exterior of the property. He then quickly scanned the house and noticed that someone had left a window open on the second floor. Thankfully, the window was above a balcony which ran the length of the back of the house, so Dean began climbing a tree which hung over the balcony gracefully and had just about enough strength to allow Dean to scale his body across it as he climbed. He eventually reached the balcony and managed to to slip inside the open window (only to land on the floor with a thump; spreading dirt all over the carpet.

‘Dammit!’ he exclaimed as he observed the mess he’d made. Why was he even here, again? Sure, Dean had broken into houses before, but that was for justified reasons, whereas he was only doing this to satisfy his curiosity. But he had gotten this far; he couldn’t give up now. As he scanned the room, he saw a collection of cardboard boxes which told Dean that the Novaks’ move must have been incredibly recent for them to have not finished unpacking yet. But then again, the owner of this bedroom could just be very lazy or have an affinity for recyclable packaging. Dean approached one of the boxes:

Gabe- bedroom- miscellaneous

Ah, so this was Gabriel’s room. ‘How old would he be now?’ Dean thought to himself, ‘hmm… 19? 20? Something like that.’

Dean made his way out of the room and into the hallway. It was a light, spacious house. Nice. Traditional. So very far from what Dean was used to. He made his first stop into Castiel’s room (judging by the labelled boxes) and the first thing he noticed was the blank walls. Whilst Gabriel’s room had already been plastered in numerous posters of semi-naked models, pictures of him and his (supposed) girlfriend, and photographs of a collection of bands, Cas’ room looked bare and unloved, as if he had no memories of which he was willing to wake up and be reminded of every day. There was, however, a small open box in the corner, which Dean couldn’t help but gravitate towards. He sat down against the wall and pulled out the first piece of contents from the box. The object made Dean feel like his lungs had been punctured. It was a tattered photo of Cas with a boy of a similar age. They were smiling at the camera, as the other boy’s hand was outstretched to take the photo. Dean turned it over in his hands and read:

“With Aaron- March 16th 1996”

So this picture had been taken only six months ago, yet it looked like it had been handled frequently. Who even was this Aaron dude? Was he Castiel’s friend or… more?

‘No. No. No. No. Nooooo. Stop thinking like that,’ Dean scorned himself, ‘maybe he’s just his cousin or something.’

But the two boys didn’t look related. Whilst Castiel had short, black hair and astonishingly blue eyes, Aaron had dirty blond hair in a wavy, curtained style and hazel-green eyes. Dean couldn’t help but think how attractive Aaron looked.

No.

Stop.

Not this crap again.

Dean tried to ignore the odd feeling of jealousy which was currently creeping through his veins. ‘It was nothing,’ he reassured himself. He was just feeling anxious about having broken into a house. He proceeded to place the photo back in the box and pull out a heavy object from beneath it. It was a photo album, and a dusty one at that. It must’ve been at least ten years old.

As he opened it up, a strange feeling of nostalgia and sadness overtook him. The first picture was of none other than himself and Cas. Dean couldn’t believe he had looked so young when he’d known Cas as a child. Despite him being six in the photo, he felt as if it could’ve been taken last week. In fact, he remembered that exact day. He and Cas had spent the whole afternoon playing ‘Angels and Demons’ (a sort of ‘Cops and Robbers’ set-up) in a field near their neighbourhood. Then, when they eventually returned back to Dean’s house, John took a polaroid of the both of them with their arms on each other’s shoulders and their smiles illuminating the dusky background. John had been in such a good mood that day that he gave Cas the photo to take home and give to his mother. Looking back, Dean realised that this was probably just to make Naomi feel better about her ‘darling Cas’ being friends with someone like Dean. He couldn’t believe that Cas had kept the photo to this day. In fact, he’d thought that Naomi would have found it and ripped it up. She’d never really liked Dean, nor his family. She’d seen Dean as a ‘bad influence’ on Cas due to his less-privileged, poorer background. She believed that all children needed a mother and a father to be brought up well, and that the fact that John hadn’t remarried was awful and irresponsible. How ironic, when considering the unavailability of information about Castiel’s father on his school record. He wondered why that was.

Dean flicked through the album, seeing only pictures that Castiel had presumably taken as a child of flowers and toys. He then placed the album back in the box and and walked downstairs, where approximately zero pictures of Castiel’s father could be found. Dean found it odd that there was absolutely no evidence Naomi’s prized husband, whom she used to habitually flaunt at every school function back in North Carolina. Maybe they’d separated.

But Dean didn’t have much time to ponder over this, as he suddenly heard the scratching of a key in the lock of the front door. Dammit! They were coming back! He raced upstairs and had only just reached the top when the door opened to reveal the authoritative tones of Naomi Novak telling her kids not to make a mess on the newly-carpeted hallway. Dean tiptoed discreetly towards Gabe’s room, slid through the open window and scrambled frantically down the tree before vaulting back over the fence and sprinting to his car at the end of the street.

He sighed as he felt relief enshroud him and sweat drip down his forehead. As Dean went to wipe his face whilst he started driving, he noticed that he was no longer wearing his hat. ‘Crap!’ he thought as he realised that he must have lost it at some point during his departure. Thankfully, the hat didn’t have his name in it, but it did provide further evidence of a break-in as Dean hadn’t had time to clear up the dirt he’d left in Gabe’s room. He hadn’t even discovered anything particularly substantial about Castiel. All he knew was that Cas had kept their picture, his family seemed to have forgotten his father, and he had been with a strikingly-attractive boy on March 16th of this year.

‘Snap out of it, Dean.’ he scalded himself, ‘You don’t find him attractive. He’s a guy and you’re straight. You’re just appreciating that you’d like to look like him, too. I mean, who wouldn’t?’

Dean sighed. Castiel’s return had stirred up some old emotions which he thought he’d never have to face again. Obviously, he was wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean pulled up outside his house and grimaced as he shut the car door; he must have somehow injured his wrist whilst leaving Cas’ house and not realised in the heat of the moment. He locked the car and, as he opened the front door of the house, he was greeted almost instantaneously by his father’s anxious face.

“Sa-? Oh it’s you,” he sighed, looking somewhat shaken, “Where’ve you been anyway?”

“Just for a little drive, that’s all,” Dean blagged.

“Must’ve been a pretty wild drive, huh?” John grunted, gesturing at Dean’s bruised wrist.

“Oh, uh, that happened in gym class yesterday,” he lied.

“Right,” John replied sceptically.

“Yup,” Dean shrugged, before approaching the staircase.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” John said sternly.

“Upstairs. You got a problem with that?”

“Yeah, I haven’t finished with you.”

“What?” Dean replied, not quite understanding where his father was going with this.

“You seen Sam on your travels this morning?”

“Uh, no. Why? He’s in his room, isn’t he?”

“Nope. Woke up and both your beds were empty. I figured you were at detention or something, but Sam? I have no idea where he is.”

“He’s probably just at a friend’s, I’m sure he’s fine, Dad,” Dean replied, just wanting to retreat to his bedroom so as to escape the stale smell of alcohol which was pulsating off his father.

“He’s never done this before, Dean.”

“Oh okay, and just  _how_  exactly would you know that?” Dean replied, daring to challenge his father for once.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look Dad, I’m just saying that, as you’re hardly ever here, how would you know what behaviour is normal for Sam or not?” Dean said through clenched teeth. John looked utterly offended, but also slightly sad that his son felt that way.

“How _dare_  you suggest that I don’t know my own son?! You have no idea what it’s like to be a father, let alone a single one. I have raised you and Sam to the best of my ability, yet all you do is bitch and moan. And then there’s Sam, who has already started snarking and undermining me.  Will you please just co-operate with me for once in your life and help me find Sam!” John exclaimed angrily, leaving Dean feeling slightly guilty.

“Fine. But I’m not lying when I say that I have no idea where Sammy is. He can look after himself and I’m sure that he’ll be back from wherever he is soon. I mean, c’mon Dad, it’s not even dark yet!”

“Hmph. I guess you’re right. But if he’s not back by dinner time then we’re going out and looking for him, okay?”

“Sure Dad, whatever,” Dean mumbled as he walked past his Dad and ascended the staircase to reach the sanctuary that was his bedroom.

Dean had neglected to tell John that, indeed, this was unusual behaviour for Sam and about how Sam had been acting increasingly strangely over past few weeks as Summer reached its conclusion and school started again. And, although Dean worried constantly about Sam, he knew that his little brother was probably just trying to avoid having to spend the day with his vaguely drunk father and would be back before dark.

Except he was wrong.

By the time it was 7 o’clock and the moon had already established its space in the sky, Sam was still AWOL and his family remained none the wiser about his location. John had tried calling up some of his school friends, but to no avail. They’d figured out that Sam had only taken a jacket, keys and some of John’s money with him, but it was time to take action.

“Dean!” John barked, “get your things, you’re going looking for him.”

“What? Why just me?”

“Because someone needs to stay here in case he returns to an empty house, and I can’t drive in my state,” he replied, faintly slurring his words.

“Alright, fine. I’ll try get back ASAP,” Dean replied half-heartedly, knowing that that probably wasn’t going to be the case as he trundled out of the house and into the impala. He had no idea where to begin looking for his brother and was starting to feel increasingly anxious. If Sam had disappeared say, six months ago, Dean would have known exactly where to look for him. However, Sam was not to be found in his usual haunts (the library, comic store, etc.) and Dean was starting to become paranoid as he realised that, due to Sam’s odd behaviour recently, he had no idea where he could possibly be. He had to resort to showing random members of the public a picture of Sam which he kept in his wallet. Unfortunately, the picture was several years old and it surpassed that no-one had seen Sammy anywhere.

In spite of this, there was one last place which Dean hadn’t yet searched- the park. Although he was reluctant to enter through its rickety, worn gates, Dean knew that the park was the preferred place for many of the kids at school to hang out and, considering that Sam seemed to be making some new, older friends, it was his last hope of finding his brother.

“Yo, Winchester!” a deep, but jovial voice called out from the nearby darkness, “Hey, it’s me, man, Skunk! ‘Sup bro?! I didn’t even know you hung out around here!”

“Oh, hiya James,” Dean replied to ‘Skunk’- a Mommy’s boy-turned-pothead. Dean walked up to him and, as anticipated, a blunt was hanging loosely from his mouth; a strange, rubbery scent emanating from it which Dean knew all too well.

“Want some?” Skunk asked. Although Dean could really do with something to relax him slightly, he refused, remembering that he had more important matters to be dealing with.

“I’m okay. Hey, uh, you know my little brother, right?”

“Uh…” Skunk uttered, looking at the sky as if he were straining to make out a constellation, “Oh! Yeah… uh…  _Sam_?” he winced.

“Yeah, that’s the one. You seen him today?”

“I dunno, man. What’s he look like, again?” Dean pulled out his wallet for the millionth time and shoved it as close to Skunk’s reddened eyes as possible, “Oh, yeah! I’ve seen ‘im!

“Really? When? Where?” Dean gasped.

“Uh, he was walking around here about an hour ago, man. But I dunno what he was doing.”

“Seriously? What the hell!? Did you see where he went after?”

“No, sorry, man. I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Hmm,” Dean replied, looking disapprovingly down at Skunk’s blunt, even though he was kind of craving it, “Okay, well I’d better get going then, see if I can find him around.”

“Is he okay?”

“Who knows. He’s never done anything like this before,” Dean sighed.

“”Well, good luck, man.”

“Thanks, Skunk. See you on Monday.”

“Yup, see ya around.”

 

* * *

 

 

As Dean drove around in the impala, windows open and music off, what little hope remained was beginning to waver and crumble. He soon found himself calling John to check if Sam had returned home.

He hadn't.

Dean could no longer cope with the situation and within five minutes, he was pulled up on the side of the road, crying and hitting the steering wheel in frustration. He remained like this for several more minutes until he could no longer deal with the reverberating voice of John in his head telling him to “man up” as he had done throughout the entirety of Dean’s childhood. He had no other choice now other than to alert the police; something which Dean had always been wary of. Involving the Winchesters with the police meant giving the officers an excuse to delve into Sam and Dean’s less-than-satisfactory childhoods with their father. It wasn’t like John had done anything in particular, but then again, that was just the problem. John had been neglecting his sons ever since his wife’s untimely death and, if the police ever got wind of this, the brothers would inevitably be taken under the wing of some faulty child protection system.

But Dean had no choice;  he was desperate.

 

* * *

 

Dean pulled into the police station parking lot and made his way into the building, where he found a reception desk with a clearly boredom-ridden woman reluctantly waiting to help with any potential enquiries.

“Hello, how may I help you?” she asked in a monotonous, rehearsed voice.

“Hi, uh, it’s my kid brother- he’s gone missing,” Dean replied, swallowing as the situation continued to sink in.

“Is he a minor?”

“Uh, I-?”

“Is he under eighteen?”

“Yeah, yeah he’s thirteen.”

“Right. Okay, what’s his name?”

“Sammy.”

“I meant his full name.” she replied.

“Hmph, fine, it’s Samuel Winchester.”

“Address?”

“11 John F. Kennedy Drive, Truman.”

“And where are your parents?” she said, looking Dean in the eye.

“Not here.”

“Very funny. But seriously, sir, where are they?”

“Well, my Dad’s at home waiting in case Sam turns up and my Mom, well, she’s no longer with us.”

“Oh. I see. Okay, well, if you could tell me their names then that would be fine,” she said, looking somewhat apologetic.

“John and Mary Winchester.”

“Okay, and Samuel’s date of birth?”

“2nd of May, 1983.”

“Time of disappearance?”

“Some time this morning.”

“And your name?”

“Uh, Dean Winchester.”

“Okay, well take a seat then,” she said, pointing lazily at a worn and faded couch in the corner of the reception room.

 

* * *

 

Several minutes later, a middle-aged man dressed in police attire walked behind the reception desk, doughnut in hand, and sat next to the woman.

“Hey Linda, how’s it going?” he asked in a friendly manner.

“Slowly,” she replied in a deadpan fashion, which amused the police officer, “Oh, and would you mind looking into this, this young man here says his little brother’s gone missing,” she said, gesturing at Dean.

“Sure,” said the officer, scanning over the details before jerking his head in surprise.

“Is this some sorta joke?” he said, eyeing Dean suspiciously.

“What? No! Why would I joke about something like this?!” Dean replied angrily.

“So you really have no idea where your brother is?”

“No, I really don’t!” Dean snarled, frustration building up in him once again.

“Well, I think you should come with me then. You may just be the person we’ve been waiting for,” said the officer, giving Dean an odd look before standing up and signalling for Dean to follow him. He was led through a long, clinically pale blue corridor interrupted by a series of metal doors, before being stopped as the officer reached the final door and opened it cautiously.

“This the boy you’re looking for?” he asked, allowing Dean to come in.

And sure enough, there on a chair next to a thick metal table, sat Sam Winchester; a mop of dark hair concealing his battered and bloodied face and his hands incarcerated by a pair of heavy duty handcuffs. He glanced up at Dean with a dark look and sighed, a tear rolling down his bruised cheek and onto the table.

All Dean could do was stare.


	5. Chapter 5

“Hello? Mr. Winchester? Is this your brother?” the officer questioned, trying to get some sort of response out of Dean.

“Uh, um, yeah,” Dean replied amidst his utter bewilderment. What the hell had happened? Why was Sammy handcuffed and bloody?

“Okay, well now that that’s sorted, we’re going to have to ask you to leave,” said the officer, standing in front of Dean authoritatively.

“Wait- what? But that’s my brother! He’s hurt!”

“Yes, and we’ll look after him, but first we have to question him.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, Mr. Winchester.”

"B-But I’m his family! I think I deserve to know why my thirteen year old brother has been beaten up handcuffed to a desk! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?” Dean exclaimed angrily, struggling against the officer who was pushing him out of the room and closing the door so that he and Dean were standing in the corridor.

“I’m sorry Mr. Winchester, but we’re still waiting for a state lawyer to arrive for your brother. We can’t give away any information until after we’ve made a decision on how to discipline Samuel.”

“Discipline him? For what?”

“As I said, that information is classified. But for now I must ask that you leave the premises.”

“So what? You’re just gonna hold Sammy in here overnight like some sorta caged animal? Does my Dad even know he’s here?”

“We are legally allowed to hold him for up to 48 hours, Mr. Winchester. We have night facilities here and your brother will be just fine. We called your father when Samuel arrived just a half hour before you did. Now could you please leave before I have to call security?”

“Fine. But if you keep him even just a minute over the 48 hours, I’m dragging him outta here myself. Got that?”

“Yah, sure ya will,” the officer replied; a condescending tone in his voice.

 

* * *

 

 

When Dean eventually returned home, he found that John had already cracked open the whiskey and was running his hands through his hair anxiously. He jumped in his chair when he noticed Dean walking tiredly into the living room.

“Dean?” John croaked, looking half-angry, half-upset.

“Before you say anything, I already know about Sammy.”

“What? How-”

“Well, I went to the police station to report Sammy as missing and then they took me into one of their interrogation rooms, and there he was,” Dean sighed, pouring some whiskey for himself before resigning to the couch diagonally opposite John’s armchair.

“Well, did you manage to find out what the hell’s goin’ on?” John asked, sitting up and trying to focus on Dean.

“No. They wouldn’t tell me a thing, Dad! Said they couldn’t until his 48 hours of custody is up or something. I only got a glimpse at Sammy before they dragged me outta the room!”

“48 hours? Oh yeah, that’s right. I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that they can hold him for up to 48 hours for questioning, and after that a hearing with the juvenile court takes place. Dammit. We don’t even know what he’s done! This is ridiculous! He hasn’t even got a lawyer!” John barked.

“They said something about a state lawyer, I guess they’ll just assign him one at random,” Dean replied through gritted teeth.

“So, how was he?” John piped up.

“Ugh,” Dean groaned, “Dad, I don’t know what happened, but uh, he…”

“He what, Dean?”

“He was handcuffed to the table and, well, I think someone beat him up,” he mumbled.

“WHAT?” John exclaimed, rising from his chair in anger, “What do you mean?”

“Well, his face was covered in blood and bruised, I-“ Dean began to choke up, “they wouldn’t even tell me who did it, Dad, I-"

“Okay, Dean, just calm down a second. It’s no use coming up with wild theories before we even know anything,” he stated, looking thoroughly exhausted and worried, “We’re just gonna have to sit this one out and wait to see what happens.”

“What? So you’re not gonna contest this? C’mon, Dad! If anyone can get information out of the police, it’s you!”

“No, Dean. I’m sorry but we’re not gonna get anywhere by charging over there and demanding confidential information. We've just gotta be patient, okay?”

“Fine,” Dean replied reluctantly, taking a final sip of his whiskey, “I’m gonna go to bed then.”

“Night.”

“Yup.”

 

* * *

 

Dean remained in a sullen mood the whole next day. He felt tight all over his body and he simply couldn’t shake off the constant feeling of anxiety which was encapsulating him. Once John had gone to sleep that night, Dean found himself lifting up the broken floorboard beneath his bed and prising from it his secret stash of weed. He wasn’t a frequent smoker of the drug, but he always made sure he had a supply for when he couldn’t calm himself down naturally. He then proceeded to roll up a joint, open his window and insert his favourite album for smoking into his cassette player; Pink Floyd’s ‘Dark Side of the Moon’.

It was rare that Dean got to smoke so freely, because, even when John was asleep, Dean always worried about Sam walking in on him and getting ideas. Even though Dean knew it would be hypocritical of him to stop Sam from smoking the substance himself, he was far too protective over Sammy to let him damage his lungs and his head with the habit. Dean was not so concerned with himself.

As the album went on, Dean’s mind started to wander into hallucinatory territory as all sorts of images and sensations presented themselves to him. Once this stage was over, he began to feel a blanket of mellow warmth enshroud him as he lay on his bed and gazed up at the stars from his bedroom window. The moon was full and was emanating a mysterious blue glow from around its edges which reminded Dean helplessly of Cas and his incredible crystal blue eyes. Dean also noticed how the deep, black sky effortlessly resembled the dark tones of Castiel’s hair. Dean physically cringed at his soppiness. It felt wrong, fantasising about Cas. Dean wasn’t gay; he knew he couldn’t be as he liked girls. Besides, if he were gay then John would likely disown him. Dean sighed, the weed was stopping him from being able to censor his thoughts at all as he began to revisit the day eleven years previously which changed everything.

* * *

 

Charlotte, North Carolina.

Summer 1985.

_“Cas! You there?” Dean squeaked, wrenching himself atop the fence which separated his and Castiel’s backyards._

_“Dean! What are you doing? You’ll hurt yourself!”_

_“It’s no big deal, Cas. I do it all the time!” Dean replied, brushing the dirt off his slightly-grazed knees, “So, you wanna come play?”_

_Castiel hung his head shyly and scratched his head, “D-don’t you remember what my Mommy said to your Daddy?”_

_“Yeah, but she’ll never notice if we only go for a short while,”_

_“But, if she finds out then she’ll get angry again,” Castiel replied, a frightened look flashing across his face._

_“She won’t find out, don’t worry, we’ll be back before sundown. C’mon I wanna show you something!” said Dean, an excited smirk playing his face._

_“You promise?”_

_“Yeah, I promise! Now come on we don’t have long!”_

 

* * *

 

_10 minutes later, Dean and Cas had climbed over the back fence of Castiel’s yard and had been walking through several yellowing fields before finally reaching a large ditch with a creek running through it. A single tree stood on the edge of the bank and attached to it was an old rope with a small piece of wood tied to the end of it._

_“You like it?” Dean asked, looking over to Cas for approval. Cas, meanwhile, was staring at the rope swing in trepidation, his wide eyes surveying the area before coming to rest on Dean’s expectant face._

_“Is that… a rope swing?”_

_“Sure is! Found it yesterday and it’s super fun, trust me!”_

_“Wait, your Daddy lets you come all the way out here?”_

_“Do you really think I’d tell him I was here? Nah, he thinks I’m hanging out with the other neighbourhood kids.”_

_“Oh,” Cas replied, puzzled. He simply couldn’t comprehend how Dean could lie so easily to his father. Castiel’s father never tolerated any lying or disobedience. Why was Dean’s father so different from his own? “Dean, why is your Daddy so nice to you?”_

_Dean look startled, “What?! Are you kidding me? Just because he lets me do stuff doesn’t mean he’s nice.”_

_“Really? Oh, so is he like my Daddy then?”_

_“Uh, I don’t know about that. But anyway, it doesn’t matter, can we just go on the rope swing now?” Dean whined, swinging his arms from side to side whilst twisting his body._

_“I don’t know, Dean. It looks kind of… scary?” Cas winced, eyeing the swing._

_“Oh, don’t be such a baby! I went on it yesterday and I’m okay, aren’t I?”_

_“Yes, but you’re taller than me, Dean; my legs can’t reach the sides of the creek! How would I even get off it?”_

_“I’ll help you, don’t worry. It’ll be okay, you just have to trust me. C’mon, it’s fun!”_

_“Fine, but if I tell you I want to get off then you have to help me!” Cas exclaimed, trying to hide his fright from Dean so as not too look like a cry-baby in front of him._

_“Awesome! Okay, here, I’ll help you on,” Dean said excitably, lifting Cas’ leg up for him and helping him mount the wooden swing. “You ready for me to push you?” Dean asked, drawing the swing back so as to create some momentum._

_“I-I- I don’t think I want to do this anymore, Dean,” Cas replied, his lip trembling and eyes turning glossy._

_“You’ll be fine, honestly, you’ll thank me after!” Dean stated, keen to impress Cas._

_“Are you sure?” Castiel questioned, his watery eyes locking with Dean’s determined ones, which were sparkling as they reflected the deep green of the creek under the hot afternoon sun._

_“Absolutely. I’ll make sure you don’t get hurt,” and with that, Cas nodded reluctantly and motioned for Dean to push the swing. “You ready?”_

_“Just do it already!” Cas declared, his eyes squeezed shut and his arms tangled tightly around the rope._

_“Okay. Three, two, one- BLAST OFF!” Dean shouted, giggling enthusiastically as Cas was flung at top-speed by Dean’s push, which was unusually strong for a kid his age._

_“Ahhhh!” Cas cried, blubbering slightly as the swing swayed violently across the creek. After a short while of continuously pushing the swing, Cas began to calm down and fully enjoy the sensation. “I’m flying, Dean! Like a bird, or- or an angel!” he squealed in delight as he felt the wind course through his hair and his clothes flap around him._

_“See, I told you you’d like it!” Dean shouted back to him, “Can I have a go now?” Dean requested, itching to get on the swing._

_“Hmph. Okay, but could I just have one more push?” Cas asked, trying not to annoy Dean._

_“Sure, whatever, just slow down and I’ll give you the biggest push possible!” Dean beamed. Eventually, the swing slowed to a pace steady enough for Dean to grab onto the rope and pull it back one more time. “All set?” he asked, looking up at Castiel’s gleeful face._

_“Yes, Dean, just push!”_

_“If you say so,” Dean smiled, shoving the swing with all his might. The swing was once again flung into the air with unnatural vigour. Except, this time, something was wrong. Suddenly, fear filled Cas’ eyes as he was swinging violently in all directions. Dean looked up and saw that the branch to which the swing was attached was bending dangerously and his heart began jumping in his throat. Castiel’s terrified screams filled the air; interrupted only by his sudden shaky, teary breaths._

_“CAS!” Dean screeched, trying to get his attention, “CAS! SLOW DOWN! I CAN’T REACH THE ROPE!”_

_“I- I can’t!” Cas bawled, his body shaking against the rope as it continued swaying uncontrollably._

_“YES YOU CAN! PLEASE, JUST TRY!”_

_“But I’m sc-scared!” he blubbered, his eyes clenched tightly together as he struggled to regulate his breathing._

_“Please, Cas! PLEASE!” Dean cried out; terror engulfing him as the branch rapidly began to splinter._

_“DEAN! HELP ME!” Cas screamed, “PLEASE!” Cas gave a terrified final glance to Dean before the branch completely gave way. Cas was falling and Dean could do nothing about it. He shut his eyes in horror as he heard the crack of bones impact upon the creek’s harsh rocks._

_Silence immediately followed, only to be disturbed by Dean’s shaky gasps as he struggled to breathe against his sobbing. When he eventually opened his eyes, he screamed in shock at the sight of Castiel’s lifeless form floating eerily amongst the rocks, his blood streaming down the creek, enveloping his small body._

_“Cas…” Dean whispered, not quite believing the sight in front of him. Instinctively, he began running desperately towards his friend, tripping over the bank and grazing his knees on the rocks. But he didn’t care, he’d been injured worse before. Dean’s clothes were growing heavy on him as they soaked up the blood-stained water around him, so much so that he was almost treading water by the time he reached Cas. He couldn’t contain the blubber that escaped his mouth as he picked Cas up; his limp but heavy frame holding Dean back even further. Dean struggled to hoist Cas up onto the steep bank, and found himself frequently collapsing under the weight, frustrated yelps escaping his mouth. Why had this happened? He was sure that the swing was safe. He’d never meant for this to happen, and now Cas was hurt. He was going to hate him for sure. Dean didn’t want Cas to hate him; in fact, Dean would give anything for him not to._

_When Dean finally managed to dump Castiel onto dry land, he realised that his clothes were drenched in blood and water. How on earth was he supposed to explain this to his father? Or worse, Castiel’s parents? Now he couldn’t help himself from panicking and his crying was beyond control. His friend was unconscious and bleeding, and they were in the middle of an empty field almost a mile away from home._

_“HELP!” Dean yelled, his voice faltering with anxiety._

_“PLEASE, IS ANYBODY THERE? I NEED HELP!” he called again, but to no avail._

_“Cas, if you can hear me, you need to wake up! Please, Cas! My Daddy’s gonna be so mad and so are your parents,” he said, shaking Cas desperately, but even at his young age, Dean could tell that Cas was in serious danger._

_“HELP! PLEASE! ANYBODY!” he screamed, his voice dying as it travelled endless across the dry fields surrounding them._

_“Cas, please… you can’t die, we’re kids- kids can’t… you can’t…” he gasped, his voice hoarse from shouting. Dean’s head was spinning. His body was beginning to sway slightly as his voice lulled softly,“I-I’m so sorry, please wake up, you’re my best friend! I-I love you, Cassie!”_

_But Cas wasn’t waking up._

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“Oh my god!”_

_“What- wait, are those kids?”_

_“Yes! Look, they’re hurt!”_

_“What the hell happened?”_

_“C’mon, we’ve gotta call 911! Goodness knows how long they’ve been out here, especially on a hot day like today!” Dean could hear the voices of a man and a woman approaching him, and as he opened his eyes, he noticed the indigo hue of a star-scattered sky staring back at him. Funny, he didn’t remember falling asleep…_

_“This one must have just passed out, I don’t think he’s hurt, probably just traumatised,” said the man, towering over Dean before realising his eyes were opening, “Oh, you’re awake?!” he started._

_“Why is it dark already?” Dean mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he lifted his torso off of the ground. He glanced around and saw the woman frantically extracting a bulky-looking object from her handbag, which he could only assume was a cell phone._

_“What’s your name, young man?” the man asked him._

_“Uh, Dean.”_

_“Okay Dean, don’t worry, you’re gonna be okay, my wife is gonna call for an ambulance. Are you hurt?”_

_“I… I don’t think so, I just grazed my knees, but that’s all,” Dean lulled, the sight of blood on his shirt making him feel light-headed again._

_“Okay, good. Now, is this boy here your friend?”_

_“Yeah, he’s name’s Castiel.”_

_“What happened to him?”_

_“Well, I wanted t-to sh-show him the, um, th-the sw-“ he blubbered._

_“It’s okay, you’re not gonna get in trouble, just tell me what happened,” the man replied calmly, placing his hand on Dean’s shoulder._

_“Uh, well I w-wanted to show him the swing- I found it y-yesterday,” Dean took a big breath as he fought back his hiccoughing, “so we came out to the- to the creek, and I told him to try it.”_

_“Then what happened?”_

_“Well, h-he was sc-scared, but I-I…”_

_“You what?”_

_“I told him he’d be okay and- and that it was fun. S-so he got on. And I p-pushed him. I don’t understand, it was fine and then the second time, the branch started breaking and- and…”_

_“It’s alright, I get it, he fell off.”_

_“Y-yeah. I should never’ve told him to do it, it’s all my fault!” Dean wailed, suddenly clutching to the man, despite everything his father had told him about ‘manning up’ and not trusting strangers._

_“Don’t worry, Dean, it’s not your fault. It may look bad, but the doctors will patch your friend up just fine. Now, where are your parents?”_

_“My Daddy doesn’t know I’m here. Cas’ parents don’t know either. What time is it?”_

_“Uh, it’s 9:00 p.m.”_

_“What? But we came here at 3:00!”_

_“I think you passed out; it would explain why both your faces are sunburnt. So, where do you live? The paramedics will want to be able to contact your parents.”_

_“We live next door to each other- 16 and 17 Ashwood Drive.”_

_“Good, well, as you’re okay, we’ll wait for the paramedics to get here and then we’ll walk you home, alright?”_

_“Okay, thank you sir.”_

_“S’alright, kiddo, and you can call me Christopher, my wife’s name is Amanda.”_

_“Okay, thanks Christopher,” Dean replied, his eyes drooping._

 

* * *

 

_Dean was woken a few minutes later when he suddenly heard a large, whipping noise and he felt his hair and clothes flapping against him._

_“C’mon Dean, the paramedics are here, we’ll ask them to look you over just to be sure before we take you home,” said Christopher, tapping Dean’s arm. Dean sat up and was instantly amazed at the sight before him; a large red helicopter had just landed 100 metres from where he was sitting. Dean loved all sorts of transportation and, although cars were his favourite, he couldn’t help but marvel at the helicopter’s propeller as it slowed to a halt._

_“Are there doctors in there?” he asked no-one in particular._

_“Yeah, they couldn’t come by ambulance because there’s no roads around here. Cool, ain’t it?”_

_“It’s awesome!” Dean piped up, suddenly feeling slightly less awful than he had before. That was, until he glanced once more at Cas, whose blood was staining the grass around him. Then, a group of paramedics came over to them with flashlights and a whole hoard of medical equipment which Dean didn’t quite understand._

_“You’re the woman we spoke to on the phone?” one of them asked, looking at Amanda._

_“Yeah, my name’s Amanda.”_

_“Okay Amanda, do you know anything about what happened here?”_

_“Talk to my husband, he knows more about it than me,” she replied, gesturing at Christopher, who proceeded to tell the paramedics everything that Dean had told him. After he had recounted the story, the paramedics set to work; they fit Cas with a neck brace, hauled him onto a stretcher with the utmost care and then wheeled him onto the helicopter._

_One of the paramedics was surveying the dark red ground upon which Cas had been lying and asked, “Did you try to stop the blood?”_

_“Uh, no, my husband and I didn’t want to move his body, y’know, in case of spinal injury or the like.”_

_“Okay, that’s understandable. I’m afraid to say that, at this stage, it is looking like Castiel has suffered some sort of injury to his spine,” she sighed, “Now, you wanted me to look over Dean here?”_

_“Yes please, we don’t want to take him home if he’s hurt, too.”_

_“Okay,” the paramedic smiled, looking now at Dean, “I just need to carry out a quick check on you. Now, do you feel any pain whatsoever?”_

_“No, just my knees. I grazed them,” Dean uttered, scared of what she might do._

_“Alright, well I’ll apply some antiseptic and dressing for you then,” she said reassuringly, before proceeding to apply some surprisingly cold cream and bandages to his knees. “See, all better! You’re shiny and new again! Now, I don’t want you worrying about your friend; accidents happen all the time and he’s going to be alright. You got that?” she said, her eyes twinkling as she gave Dean a comforting smile._

_“Yeah,” Dean answered wearily, “thanks for helping him.”_

_“No worries, kid. Now, Christopher and Amanda are going to take you home and I’ve sent one of our team over to your house to inform yours and Castiel’s parents about the situation.”_

_“WHAT?” Dean jumped up._

_“Is something wrong?” the paramedic inquired, looking startled._

_“My Dad… he’s gonna kill me!” Dean exclaimed._

_“Trust me, Dean, the person we sent over to your house will explain that it’s not your fault; your Daddy has no reason to be angry. Dean frowned. How did she not understand why he’d be angry?_

_“Don’t you get it? I didn’t tell him where I was going and I’m always supposed to be back before it goes dark. I’ve let him down… h-he’ll hate me,” Dean stated wildly; his throat tight and his heart racing at the thought. The paramedic sighed and patted Dean’s shoulder, “Don’t you worry, kid, he’ll understand.”_

 

 

* * *

 

_Christopher pulled the car up just outside Dean’s house, which was notably smaller than Cas’ house. “Right Dean, we’ll come to the door with you just to make sure everything’s okay,” Christopher told him, his head turned so as to face Dean in the backseat._

_“Okay,” Dean replied, sulking against the window, reluctant to return home._

_“You sure you’re alright?” Amanda asked, looking concerned._

_“Mmm,” he replied nonchalantly._

_“Well, let’s put your father out of his misery, then,” Christopher declared, getting out of the car and gesturing for the others to do so._

_They walked together to the front door, Dean trailing behind timidly. He didn’t usually get his scared; he’d been taught by his Dad not to be a wuss, but he couldn’t help the apprehension he was feeling as Amanda rang the doorbell. As John opened the door, he stared suspiciously at Christopher and Amanda, before gruffly asking, “You guys that couple the paramedic told me about?”_

_“Uh, yeah, I’m Amanda, this is Christopher.”_

_“You helped my son?”_

_“I suppose you could say that. We found him and his friend whilst on a walk.”_

_“Oh right, well thanks, I appreciate it. I’m John, by the way.”_

_“Nice to meet you,” they reciprocated._

_“Now, it’s way past Dean’s bedtime, so-“_

_“Oh yeah, we understand, no worries. We’ll be off now,” Amanda rambled awkwardly._

_“Thanks, g’night,” John mumbled, closing the door as they walked off and waved at Dean, who waved limply back. As soon as the door shut behind them, Dean tensed up in anticipation of his father’s wrath. Although John had already started blaming Sam for any problems after Mary’s death, Dean was still terrified of his father’s anger. John stood authoritatively over Dean for a minute, not breaking eye contact for a second. Even when Dean could no longer contain the tears which lined his sunburnt face, John remained in his stance, emotionless. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, John looked straight ahead and walked into the kitchen behind Dean as if nothing had happened. Dean couldn’t believe what had just happened. What was going on?_

_“Daddy?” he whispered from the doorway to the kitchen, where John was pouring himself some brandy, “why aren’t you angry?” John continued to ignore him._

_“Daddy? What-“_

_“Don’t call me that!” John barked, thumping the brandy bottle on the work surface, “you’re too old for that crap.”_

_Dean started welling up again, not quite expecting such an outburst from his father, “Didn’t the doctor explain what happened?”_

_“Oh, he explained, alright. Have many times have I told you never to disobey my orders, huh? You think it’s acceptable to lie to me about where you are?”_

_“No,” Dean replied, looking ashamedly at the floor, tears dripping off the bottom of his chin._

_“You look at me when I’m talking to you, boy!” he clamoured, “you think it’s acceptable to drag that poor boy into it, after everything? After all the lectures I’ve had from that hoity-toity ‘I’m better than anyone else’ mother of his about parenting? Huh? Do ya!?”_

_“No, look Dad, I’m sorry, I-“_

_“No excuses, Dean; that friend of yours is in hospital right now with a severe injury, thanks to you!”_

_“B-but i-it was an ACCIDENT!” Dean shouted hoarsely, his voice wavering as he burst into tears once more._

_“Nope, don’t you start crying kid, it’s pathetic- you need to take responsibility for your own actions. I don’t care that it was an accident, the fact of the matter is that Castiel’s life could now be ruined and guess who’s gonna be blamed? YOU!”_

_“Stop it! STOP IT!” Dean wailed, “Why d’you have to be so mean ALL THE TIME! I TOLD YOU, I DIDN’T MEAN FOR IT TO HAPPEN! PLEASE STOP BEING SO ANGRY ALL THE TIME!”_

_John stood stock-still, shocked that a six-year-old could be so angry. “Is that really what you think of me?” he asked, hiding the hurt he felt at his son’s words. Dean stared at his father again and then, out of pure frustration, stormed up to the table and determinedly swiped John’s glass of brandy as he went so that it fell with a definitive smash on the floor. All John could do was step back, and watch aghast as Dean scrambled upstairs to his bedroom, where he immediately slammed the door._

 

* * *

 

_Nothing had ever been the same again. When Cas was finally discharged from hospital, Dean watched from the window as he was pushed into his house in a wheelchair. Cas glanced at him, but Naomi had forbidden that the boys have any contact whatsoever. She and her husband had never liked John and his sons; they thought John was a lazy parent and that Dean was a terrible influence on their ‘angelic’ children, Cas especially. The boys had formed a profound bond which Dean had never experienced again with any of his other friends growing up, and Castiel’s parents hated it. Subsequently, a few weeks after Cas’ return home, the Novaks moved away and, several weeks later, so did the Winchesters. Even after eleven years, Dean had never forgotten his best friend Cas, and Cas had never forgotten Dean._

 

* * *

 

Dean sat up in his bed, suddenly realising he had tears running down his face. He hadn’t thought back to that day in so many years, yet the details were still so pronounced and painful. It was surreal to think of how he and Cas had once been so close, especially considering how awkward things had been between them at school on Friday. He supposed that over the years, Naomi must have been convincing Cas that it was all Dean’s fault. Naomi had hated Dean before the incident anyway. Dean had been told at the time that it was because she and her husband saw Dean as a bad influence, but now Dean began to wonder just why that was. He suspected he’d never know. Besides, he had more important things to consider now, what with Sam being in trouble for a crime which Dean and John had no idea about. Dean lightly put out his joint against a glass on his bedside table, scrunched it up and stuffed it in the soil of the potted plant in the corner of his room. He’d had enough deep thoughts for one day and needed to get his head back to normal before school in a few hours. He sighed, rubbing his reddened eyes before collapsing back onto the bed and contemplating the day that lay before him. He fell asleep simply at the thought of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own neither Pink Floyd, nor 'Dark Side of the Moon' (which, if you don't already know, if an absolute masterpiece of an album and I'd thoroughly recommend you guys listen to it!) :)


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Dean woke up to the relentless force of his alarm clock punching his ear drums; his body weighed down by the groggy hangover of his late-night smoking. At least his eyes weren’t red, he considered as he checked his haggard face in the mirror. His hair was sticking out erratically and his face was pale with fatigue, but overall he looked okay. All he had to do was pat his hair down and slip on some brighter-than-usual clothing so as to counteract his discoloured complexion. So, when Dean eventually strode into school; jacketless with only a white top, faded jeans, amulet and boots; he looked anything other than abnormal. In fact, Dean was well aware that his previous jacketless school days had been fun experiences, what with his never-failing ability to turn heads as fellow students admired his well-defined arms.

Indeed, he did receive some distracted stares as he walked into registration five minutes late. However, he was unable to appreciate this as he couldn’t help but immediately glance in Castiel’s direction. There he was, sitting in the back corner, staring out the window with intent. He seemed to have ditched the awkward trench coat and instead settled for a generic combination of jeans, a white t-shirt and a baggy flannel shirt on top of it. His hair was also different; rather than the mother’s-boy combed style, he was sporting a more casual, natural look. Dean couldn’t help but think that his first-day look was concocted by his mother; as opposed to today’s get-up, which appeared much more natural and relaxed. Dean’s eyes were involuntarily drawn to how the dusty ray of sun coming from the window was illuminating the cobalt nuances of Castiel’s eyes. And it certainly didn’t help when Cas saw Dean staring, and stared back- allowing Dean full access to Cas’ sunlit face as he staggered to his seat.

As Dean sat down, however, all he could think about was how awkward he was being. Maybe Cas would think he’d just been looking out the window, or maybe that he’d been scanning the room and stopped at Cas because Cas stared back. Well, whatever excuse, he’d have to do something about it. He didn’t want Cas to think he was _interested_ ; certainly not in _that_ way. Not that he was. Not even in the _slightest_. It was impossible, Dean thought, he’d had too many girlfriends to be _gay_. He didn’t even like Cas like that. Male-on-male appreciation was perfectly normal, right? Well anyway, he considered, he’d have to go talk to him before 1 st period just to check he hadn’t gotten the wrong message.

Except, every time Dean attempted to catch up to Castiel in the corridors thoughout the day, Cas just seemed to inexplicably escape his view. He guessed he’d just have to hope Cas hadn’t looked too much into what had happened. Not that anything _had_ happened, but y’know. Besides, Dean mused, Cas probably wasn’t even gay- he’d heard somewhere that only 10% of the population were, so it was unlikely Cas was. Why was he even thinking about this stuff anyway? Dean tried to distract himself with the thought of getting to find out about Sam’s supposed wrongdoing in a few hours, but this failed when he absentmindedly bumped into Cas at the end of the day.

“Oh, I’m so sorr-“ Cas mumbled, before looking up at Dean with wide eyes, “oh, Dean! Hi… um, I’m sorry, I have to go-“

“Wait!” Dean exclaimed, gripping softly on Cas’ fleeing shoulder, “what’s the rush?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing really, I just have to get home, um, y’know, homework and stuff.”

“Can ‘homework and stuff’ wait a little longer?” Dean asked, facing Castiel, who was several centimetres smaller than himself.

“Why? Do you need help with something?”

“What? No! ... No, I was just wondering uh-, “ Dean flashed one of his charmingly awkward smiles, “well, I was just wondering if you’d like to catch up?”

“Um, I don’t really think that’s necessary,” Cas muttered.

“Are you kidding me? C’mon, man, it’s been _eleven years_! We used to be best friends!”

“’Used’ being the operative word.”

“Look, Cas,” Castiel glanced up at Dean when he called him that, “I just wanna hang out, y’know, talk about the good old times- find out what you’ve been up to the past decade.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dean.”

“And why’s that? Let me guess, did your Mom warn you not to ‘affiliate’ yourself with me and my ‘disgraceful family’, as she put it all those years ago?”

“She said that?” Cas enquired, looking slightly taken aback.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t matter now. Believe me, she’s not the only one who’s thought it- just the only one who’s had the guts to say it aloud. But anyway, my point is, it’s been a long time and the fact that we’ve coincidentally ended up at the same school may just be some sort of sign that we should try again.”

“Try again?” Cas exclaimed, looking confused.

“Uh- yeah, y’know, like as friends,” Dean stumbled over his words, realising he was probably making a bigger deal out of this than he should.

“Look Dean, that would be nice, but I can’t.”

“But why?”

“I just can’t,” Cas uttered, looking away guiltily.

“Wait, there’s something you ain’t telling me here.”

“What do you mean?” Cas questioned nervously. Dean looked up in thought, until suddenly-

“This is about my brother, isn’t it?”

“What?!”

“This is about Sam! Oh yeah, I can see it in your eyes!” Dean stated, seeing Castiel’s embarrassment colour his face red, “I’m right, aren’t I? Somehow that snooping mother of yours has found out, hasn’t she?”

Cas sighed heavily, looking ashamed, “Dean, I’m sorry- it really has nothing to do with me, I-“

“How did she find out?”

“She…” Cas stared at Dean’s arms as he spoke, “um, she saw Sam on Saturday afternoon near our street. We’d just been broken into earlier that day and she was looking for someone to blame. Nothing was taken, but she thought that may have been because we’d returned home in time.” Cas looked up and paused, by seeing Dean’s agitated face, carried on, “Anyway, she went driving around the neighbourhood to see if she could find any possible suspects, but only found Sam, who happened to be wearing all black, which matched the colour of a hat we found in Gabriel’s room. So she assumed it was him and called the police on him. He got away for a while, but when the police found him, he was beaten up in some side alley somewhere. But I swear, I don’t know anything else, only that, as soon as my mother figured out it was Sam who she'd encountered, she… concluded he was the one who did it.”

“So wait, you’re saying that the reason my thirteen year old brother’s been rotting away in some stupid jail cell the last couple a days is because of your Mom’s personal vendetta against my family?”

“Well, I wouldn’t word it quite that way, but yes, that is the general gist of it all.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Dean shouted incredulously.

“I’m sorry Dean, it’s just that my mother told me not to talk to you, said you were a ‘loose cannon’…”

“A _what?!_ ”

“Look, Dean, just so you know, I’m not the same person I was eleven years ago. I see past her transparency now and, believe me, I wanted to talk to you, but I just didn’t know how.”

Dean rubbed his face in shock, “But we still don’t have any clue why my brother was practically dripping in blood when I saw him. I mean, what the hell is that about?”

“I’m sorry, Dean, but I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him yourself. In the mean time, I really do have to go now.”

“Yeah, yeah okay- you go. See ya tomorrow.”

“Goodbye, Dean,” Cas nodded, watching Dean’s distress before reluctantly slumping away and walking off.

Dean was in shock. It was his fault Sam was being held in custody and he hadn’t even known it until now. But surely there was no concrete evidence to be used against Sam? Furthermore, would there really be any point in pressing charges anyway if nothing was even taken? Dean was worried, to say the least.

 

* * *

 

On the drive home, Dean decided to stop by the local mini mart to grab some chocolate to welcome home Sam with. However, just as Dean was about to leave the store, a voice called out to him:

“Yo, Dean! My man!” said a deep voice as its owner clapped Dean on the back before coming round to face him.

“Jason? Hey, what’re you doing here?” Dean asked, greeting his fellow classmate. Jason had been Dean’s only consistent friend throughout his time at Truman High, and despite his faults (which included a cocky attitude and a general disrespect for all those around him), he had saved Dean from being a complete loner. Dean got on well with everybody at school, but his reluctance to form close relationships and open up to others caused him to end up with Jason as his only friend. Jason wasn’t interested in knowing everything about Dean, and Dean wasn’t interested in knowing everything about Jason. This was the unlikely factor which formed an unexpected trusting bond between the boys. Jason hadn’t always been the kindest to Dean, but Dean had all the reason to remain friendly with him; he was his weed supplier.

“Just pickin’ up some of the good stuff,” he chirped, gesturing to the six pack of beer resting under his arm.

“So your fake I.D. worked, then?” Dean replied, mildly impressed.

“Too right it did! Anyway, where’ve ya been at recently, I haven’t seen you in a long time!”

“Oh, I’ve been around. I’m just busy.”

“Even at lunchtimes? C’mon, dude, I've missed you! The whole gang has!”

Dean doubted that, “Yeah, I know, but I’ve started eating in my car at lunch. It’s nothing personal, I just prefer to have some peace and quiet during my breaks, y’know?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Well, just remember that I can always refuse to supply you. Look, all I’m saying is that It’d be nice to see you around more, okay?”

“Uh, sure. Sorry man, gotta go now. Things to do-“

“People to see? Yeah, I get it. Feel free to leave, I’m not gonna hold you back. Have a good afternoon, Deano!” Jason laughed as Dean walked off, getting into his car with a relieving sigh. Jason could be so controlling sometimes, although he had been right that Dean had been notably absent from socialising at lunchtimes recently. Dean wasn’t sure why he had been avoiding Jason. Maybe it was his subconscious trying to tell him that if he wanted to kick his weed habit then he’d have to avoid its sculptor. Not that Dean had any particular desire to quit, but it was getting to the point where it was more of a routine than a recreation.

 

* * *

 

 

Dinner that night was a solemn affair as Dean and John half-heartedly ate their meals; both anxious to welcome Sam home. Thankfully he had been cleared without the need for a hearing on the count of a lack of substantial evidence, and he was to be driven home by a police officer in a cop car at around 9pm. Both were nervous to see what state he’d be in, especially as John hadn’t seen Sam since before his beating-up. So whilst John was worrying for Sam, Dean was dealing with the ever-increasing guilty conscience that was consuming him. Although he was delighted that Sam wasn’t facing any charges, he still felt awful that it was his curiosity which had incriminated his younger brother. He was supposed to look after him, and lately he hadn’t been doing a good job of it. He still didn’t know why Sam had been acting hostile and withdrawn in the weeks leading up to his arrest, but maybe it really was just hormones.

After a tense hour spent gulping down their nightcaps, Dean and John were alarmed when the sound of a doorbell rang through their ears.

“That’ll be him!” Dean jumped up, scrambling to the front door, John following closely behind. Dean opened the door, and there he was. Dean immediately gripped his brother tight as they embraced; Sam tearing up slightly onto Dean’s shoulder. John then hugged his son fiercely, and inspected his face with mild horror. As soon as the cop drove off, the boys moved back into the living room so John could get a better look at Sam.

“Dad, I’m sorry,” he uttered, staring at his feet as he spoke.

“It’s okay, son. You don’t have to apologise for anything. Just tell me what happened,” John replied, sitting on the arm of the sofa, and rubbing his face in anguish. Sam was still wearing the same clothes he was on Saturday, and the dried blood certainly added to the bruises smattered all over his body. He’d been badly injured, but thankfully not enough to send him to hospital. Sam’s usually-soft hair was now resting in front of his eyes; greasy and hardened from the dried blood that had been unleashed onto it. The cop had mentioned that, whilst Sam’s open wounds had been cleaned and covered, the shower at the station was broken, so he hadn’t washed himself since Saturday morning. Dean and John had been appalled by this information.

“I-,” Sam’s voice cracked, his eyes watering, “I can’t tell you.”

“What?!” John exclaimed.

“You’ve just gotta trust me, Dad. You heard what the cop told you about why I was arrested, but I can’t tell you any more.”

“Why the hell not? My thirteen year old son was beaten up the same day he was arrested! As your father I deserve to know; to have some sorta peace of mind!” he barked.

“Please, Dad! Just leave me alone! It’s no big deal!”

“Well it is to me!”

“You don’t understand! I CAN’T TELL YOU!” Sam shouted back to his father, wincing as his tears came into contact with a cut on his cheek. Sam wiped away the tear defiantly before storming out of the room and upstairs, where Dean and John heard the bathroom door slam shut and the shower subsequently turn on.

John sighed heavily, picking up his drink and swigging it. Dean was too tired to argue with him about his treatment of Sam, so gave him a glare before heading upstairs himself.

“You used to be a lot more relaxed,” John called out from the living room as Dean reached the landing.

“So did you,” he answered.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, Sam was still refusing to elaborate on Saturday night’s activities; meaning John was still pissed, both in mood and state.  All throughout the drive to school, Sam refused to speak to Dean- he didn’t even pipe up to tell Dean to turn the music off, despite having Blur’s ‘Song 2’ shouting into his eardrums. Nor did he thank Dean for the ride, and he even failed to give him the usual nod as he entered the school building. Dean felt for his brother; he was about to face a whole day of questions he didn’t want to answer, but couldn’t avoid due to his battered body and slight limp. Dean had suspected that Sammy’s wrist was sprained when he failed to close the car door properly, but didn’t bring it up so as to avoid his brother’s angsty wrath.

But Dean couldn’t protect his brother much longer; he was growing up rapidly and Dean feared he’d get to be taller than even him eventually. He could definitely see it, because, although Sam had a been little chubby this time last year, he was getting taller and lankier by the day. His hair was also growing at top-speed. Sam had always had slightly longer hair than the average male, but now it was a shaggy mess of untamed curtains, which wouldn’t look out of place in a boyband.

Dean shuddered at the thought.

Soon he pulled into his own school and, knowing he’d missed registration, signed in and headed straight for his first class: English. Dean hadn’t had English since Thursday, and thus was caught by surprise when he saw none other than Castiel sitting in his usual place upon entering the classroom. Dean looked at his teacher, betrayed, but she proceeded to ignore him. Therefore, Dean had no choice but to sit himself down on the empty seat next to Cas.

 Dean had picked his spot at the beginning of the year specifically so as to be able to sit on his own. Although he was capable of being sociable and somewhat enjoyed being so, he preferred to sit alone in English. Unbeknownst to all, English was Dean’s favourite subject. He loved the delicate intricacies and harsh juxtapositions which could be found in literature and, despite not being particularly good at it, he enjoyed the fact that everything they studied was open to interpretation- much like many of Dean’s favourite songs and albums. Not that Dean would tell anyone this- John had always maintained that English was for “girls and sissies” and was delighted when Dean’s best subject ended up being Physics, or “a subject for real men” as John, a part-time mechanic, had dubbed it. Thus, Dean much preferred sitting alone in English so that he could appreciate the lessons without having to pretend otherwise. But Dean could not tell whether the presence of his new partner pleased or annoyed him. On the one hand, he was no longer able to sit back and relax as per usual, but on the other hand, he now got to sit next to Cas, meaning Cas could no longer actively avoid him. Dean wasn’t sure why this thought elated him so, but he did know that he was starting to regret his scruffy choice of outfit today. He cringed at himself. What the hell was going on with his thoughts lately?

‘Probably all the pot’, Dean mused to himself as he slouched down casually next to Cas, glancing at him and smiling politely. Cas acknowledged him, but was painfully awkward as he pretended not to see Dean for the next 10 minutes until the teacher told them to work in pairs. She asked each pair to draw up a table of motivations behind Macbeth’s murderous actions.

“So, any ideas, Cas?” Dean said, pushing his piece of paper towards him. Cas looked up at him but did not reply. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“Uh, no. I just… I’m not used to being called that.”

“So? That’s what I’ve always called you- why would I change now?”

“No, I’m not asking you to- it’s just weird, that’s all.”

“Yeah? Well you’d better get used to it, bud, ‘cause ‘Castiel’ is a mouthful.” Cas stared at Dean for a second, before hastily clearing his throat and beginning to write something down. Plain awkwardness ensued before Dean continued, “So have you even read ‘Macbeth’?”

“Yes, we did it at my old school.”

“Great.”

“Great,” the two boys looked apprehensively at each other before averting their gaze back to the blank pages in front of them. Dean looked peripherally at Cas and was surprised to see him blushing. Maybe Cas was easily embarrassed, or maybe…?

No! ‘CAS IS NOT GAY AND NEITHER ARE YOU!’ Dean repeated in his head for what felt like the millionth time. He knew his thoughts were probably normal, but they were really starting to bother him. Cas had been at the forefront of his mind for a good five days now, and it was becoming unbearable, because no matter how hard Dean tried, he couldn’t help but be fascinated by his former best friend, and yet he didn’t know why.

“Dean, hello?” Dean started out of his daze as he realised that Cas was speaking to him.

“What?!”

“We’re meant to be working together.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean grunted.

“Well then why weren’t you answering me?”

“Sorry, I was just thinking-“ Cas glared, “-about how Macbeth is only motivated by…”

“By what, Dean?” Cas asked, annoyed.

“Uh, his… um,”

“I think the word you’re looking for is _hamartia_.”

“ _Hamster what_?”

Cas was becoming increasingly annoyed, “It means ‘fatal flaw’, Dean. Macbeth’s fatal flaw is?” he questioned, gesturing for Dean to answer.

“Uh… his overwhelming desire to repeatedly obey three old, wrinkly, naked witches?”

Cas sighed loudly in frustration.

 

* * *

 

Before Dean knew it, it was lunchtime. He supposed he should stop being unsociable and hang out with Jason today; especially after their run-in at the mini-mart. Dean spotted Jason sitting in his usual lunch spot- surrounded by the ‘gang’ (as Jason liked to call them). They comprised some of the most popular people in the school who, by some miracle, had accepted Dean into their group back when he first became friendly with Jason. Although he didn’t exactly consider the gang to be his friends, he still got on with them pretty well.

As Dean approached the table, Jason clocked him and patted the seat next to him so as to signal for him to sit down. As Dean placed his tray on the table, he received a camaraderie of pats on the back and there was a general murmur of “Dean, hey!” and “Wassup, dude?”

“Hey guys- mind if I sit here?” he asked jokingly as he sat down. There was an air of enthusiastic agreement.

“So, Dean- tell us everything!” quipped a girl who came and sat on Dean’s other side. It was Lisa Braeden, a gorgeous brunette whom Dean had always vaguely liked ever since joining the school.

“Tell you what?” he asked, confused.

“About your brother, of course! Is he okay?” she questioned, looking genuinely concerned. Jason immediately looked uncomfortable, as did the other boys- he supposed their probable plan to ignore the topic had gone awry.

“Lisa, I don’t think-,” Jason began hesitantly.

“No, Jason- it’s fine,” Dean interjected, before turning back to Lisa, “he just got into some trouble at the weekend, that’s all.”

“What sort of trouble?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. He’s not speaking much.”

“Oh right, well that’s understandable- he’s what- thirteen?”

“Yup.”

“Exactly; it’ll just be a hormonal thing. My sister’s twelve and she’s exactly the same.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t get beaten up and thrown in a jail cell for it, or am I kindly mistaken?” Dean exclaimed, raising his voice and immediately regretting it upon seeing the slightly scared look on Lisa’s face. The boys were twiddling their thumbs, whilst the only other girl in the group- a blonde called Jo- continued to bite noisily into her apple in a frail attempt to break the awkward silence.

“I- I’m sorry Dean, I was just trying to make you feel bet-“

“Well, don’t,” he huffed. He desperately wanted to leave and eat the rest of his lunch in his car, but he knew that would be rude to the others, so remained where he was. Also, he didn’t want Lisa to think badly of him- he hadn’t meant to lash out like that; he was just frustrated and tired of all the questions.

“So, Dean,” started another guy, Zach, “did you ever find out what happened to your brother?” he asked tentatively.

“No,” Dean sighed, trying to keep patient, “my Dad told me that the police have an idea of what happened, but not enough evidence or something.”

“So why did they arrest him, then?”

“I dunno, must’ve caught him in some sorta compromising position. Look- don’t ask me- I know as much as you do.”

“Okay, okay, I was just asking,” Zach replied, looking at the rest of the group with a grimace. This was gonna be one hell of an awkward lunchtime, Dean thought miserably.

 

* * *

 

After a few minutes of listening to the group talking about very deliberately non-offensive topics, Dean was just about ready to leave and cast himself out of the school’s social sphere forever, when Jason suddenly spoke up:

“Hey, ain’t that the new kid?” he asked, gesturing with his eyebrows towards Cas, who was walking with a tray to an empty table.

“Yeah,” Jo replied, “his name’s Castiel.”

“ _Castiel?_ ” Jason mocked, screwing up his eyes and sniggering, “are you serious? The fuck sorta name is _Castiel_?”

“Don’t laugh,” Lisa interjected, “he might hear you!”

“Like I care. Besides, he’s a newbie, and newbies need to know who’s in charge here.”

“I hardly think that’s necessary, I mean, he’s sitting on his own- I’m sure he’s perfectly aware of his social standing. Not that it matters anyway, no-one’s ‘in charge’ here except the Principal,” Jo stated, clearly sick of Jason’s bullshit.

“Huh, well, I know better than to challenge you, Joanna Beth, but I don’t take back what I said. Just look at him- he’s a classic noob! Who the hell wears a _trenchcoat_ to _school_? And the hair? It’s the typical ‘Mommy’s Boy’ sty-“

“You’re wrong,” Dean interrupted.

“ _What?_ ” Jason stared at him, incredulous.

“I said, you’re wrong. Cas ain’t a ‘Mommy’s Boy’- nice projecting there, though,” Dean said, before finally leaving the table and walking over to where Cas was seated.

“What the hell? What just happened?” Jason scoffed as Jo laughed and Zach scowled. Lisa just looked confused and was muttering “ _Cas?_ ” under her breath.

“Hey Cas, you don’t mind if I sit here, do ya?” Dean asked, smiling gently as he placed his tray down opposite Castiel.

“Uh, no, of course not. Hello, Dean,” Cas smiled back, looking surprised that Dean had chosen to sit with him.

“So, where’s the rest of your posse?” Dean joked.

“I- I haven’t got a ‘posse’, Dean. I though you knew that.”

“It was a joke.”

“Oh right. I’m sorry Dean, it’s just-“

“Rough day?”

“Somewhat,” Cas sighed, playing with his food.

“I know the feeling.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, everyone’s been kinda _nosy_ after hearing ‘bout Sammy. I just wish they’d all go find someone else to hassle.”

“Oh, is that why you sat here?”

“Hmm?” Dean enquired.

“It’s just, I’ve been sitting alone since I came here and-“

“What? No! I sat here because I _wanted_ to. I don’t usually eat in the cafeteria, but the group kinda made me today.”

“Oh right,” Cas replied, looking slightly more relaxed, “So where do you usually eat?”

“In my car.”

“But why? Surely it’s better to sit with your friends?”

Dean chuckled to himself, “they’re not my friends, Cas. Not really. I only hang out with Jason because he was nice to me on my first day here. And the car’s cool. I get to pick the food and the tunes and I don’t have to talk to anyone.”

“You know, Dean, I remember you being a lot more sociable than you are now,” Cas sighed, looking into Dean’s eyes. Dean could feel himself blushing slightly.

“Yeah, well, people change. I can be sociable, but I choose not to be at school.”

“Why not?”

“I dunno, I just prefer to keep myself to myself in these places. Just makes life easier.”

Cas nodded in understanding.

 

* * *

 

The two boys ended up talking with each other for the rest of lunch; seemingly rediscovering the spark that had lit their friendship all those years ago.  Despite their lack of common interests, they never ran out of topics for conversation and, by the end of the hour, they both had smiles on their faces.

“Oh, that’s the bell, better get to class,” Dean said, smiling at Cas as he pointed over his shoulder, “I’m that way.”

“Uh, well, I think I’m this way,” Cas shrugged, gesturing in the opposite direction.

“Right, well- I’ll see you around, Cas,” Dean announced, clapping Cas on the shoulder.

“Oof!” Cas exclaimed, inhaling sharply and cringing.

“What? What is it?” Dean asked, concerned and confused.

“No, it’s nothing, honestly-“

“Yes it is; what just happened?!”

“I told you, Dean- it’s no big deal,” Cas muttered, standing himself upright once again.

“Wait-“ a light flicked on in Dean’s brain and suddenly a wave a guilt washed over him, “is it… your _back?_ ”

Cas grimaced and sighed heavily- looking Dean in the eyes- before answering, “yes.”

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, Cas… I didn’t think… I should’ve thought…”

“It’s fine, Dean. It was eleven years ago, I don’t expect you to remember.”

“I didn’t realise it’d still be bad,” Dean uttered, dragging his hands down his face in embarrassment.

“Yeah, well, one doesn’t exactly recover from a temporary paralysis of the legs due to crippling spinal injury, Dean,” Cas snapped.

“Man, I’m sorry, look- I know I can’t make up for it, but could I… could I at least give you a ride home?” Dean suggested, desperate to make Cas happy.

“No, it’s fine- I can walk.”

“No, really- let me; I want to,” Dean implored, fixing his eyes upon Castiel’s.

Cas slumped, giving into temptation, “fine. But my mother mustn’t know.”

“Uh, sure,” Dean replied, trying to mask his frown.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my… that car… _I forgot how beautiful it is_ ,” Cas blurted out as they met up in the parking lot after school.

Dean chuckled, “thanks, my Dad's finally letting me use it so I figured I'd better take care of her and keep her pretty.”

“Oh yes, of course! I forgot your Dad was a mechanic, I’m sure he’s owned many classic cars.”

“No, just the one. Not that I’m complaining,” Dean replied as they got into the impala.

“Uh, don’t you need my address?” Cas asked, as Dean began driving out of the school.

“Oh, uh, sure. That’d be helpful,” Dean laughed nervously, as he realised Cas didn’t know that he already knew where he lived. Cas eyed Dean suspiciously; cocking his head to the side, but he apparently quickly dismissed his thoughts as he went back to looking out the windscreen. Silence soon ensued, only to be interrupted by the soft purr of the engine- but Dean still felt awkward about the back thing, so hastily shoved a tape into the deck so as to make the journey a little more bearable.

Cas screwed his face up at the noise, “What’s this?”

“Music,” Dean smirked.

“Yes, I am aware of that, Dean.”

“Why d’ya always talk like that, eh Cas?”

“Talk like _what?_ ”

“Like you’re a child actor who’s just been taught the importance of ‘ _articulation, darling’_.”

“I don’t understand that reference,” Cas huffed, looking confused.

“Uh, never mind. And for your information, this is one of the best albums of all time- Led Zeppelin IV- a true masterpiece.”

“If you say so.”

 

* * *

 

Dean pulled up just a couple of houses away from Castiel’s so as to avoid his mother seeing, but just as Cas was getting out the car and walking up his drive, the front door burst open and Cas’ mother, Naomi, came marching out towards the impala.

“Mom, what are you…?” Cas began, before being gripped tight on the arms by Naomi.

“What did he do to you?”

“What?” Cas gasped in bewilderment.

“Castiel, why were you in _that car?_ ” she shouted, before giving up on the cause and storming towards Dean.

“JOHN! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, TAKING MY SON INTO YOUR CAR?! I COULD HAVE YOU SUED FOR- wait a second, you’re not John!” she trailed off as Dean opened the car door and got out. Naomi adjusted her gaze to take in Dean’s full height. She seemed confused for a second; switching her view between Dean and the impala before coming into realisation, “ _Dean Winchester?”_

“That’s right.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Just dropping Cas off. That’s what friends do.”

“ _Cas?_ ” she scoffed, _“_ Ha, surely if you were _really_ friends then Castiel would have told you just how much he hates that nickname.”

“Funny, he always seems to like it when I say it,” Dean sneered, not rising to Naomi’s bait, “ain’t that right, Cas?”

Castiel, who was standing a metre or so behind his mother, looked terribly flustered; his cheeks tinted pink. Naomi, however, was utterly infuriated.

“That’s right, I forgot- you always were an awful liar- just like your father.”

“You shut up about my Dad,” Dean snarled, his jaw shifting with anger.

“Interesting, you seem to have inherited his temper, too.”

Dean wanted nothing more than to slap her right there and then, but he restrained, knowing that it would upset Cas. “Honestly, considering the amount of false information you seem to ‘remember’ about my family, I wouldn’t hesitate to call _you_ the worst liar out of all of us.”

“Oh Dean, you think you’re so smart, don’t you? Tell, me- where did genes get you in terms of GPA?”

“Well, that’s really none of your business, sweetheart, but for your information, but my kid brother gets straight As in every report card. So actually, I think you’ll find that my genes are perfectly fine.”

“Well, that may be so- but that doesn’t change the fact that your father’s an absent drunk and your brother got arrested this weekend.”

“You can sit up there on your high horse, Naomi, but I don’t see you flaunting Cas _tiel_ ’s father ‘round the PTA meetings.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Okay, so then tell me- what makes you think you have any business in poking around in my life. I mean, c’mon Naomi, don’t you have better things to do than pick fights with a 17-year-old? Or is your non-existent sex life really starting to get to you?”

She’d slapped him. On the cheek. Hard.

“Well, thank God you didn’t have a wedding ring on, or that would’ve actually hurt!” Dean mused, before winking at Cas and jumping back into the car. Although Cas looked annoyed at Dean, he couldn’t help but feel elated from the adrenaline rushing through his veins. Despite the fact that it had been _Naomi_ who’d slapped _Dean_ , he knew that it was really him who won the argument, and thus was grinning ear to ear as he drove away from the house, revving the engine as he went.


	8. Chapter 8

As Dean pulled up, he could hear an endless tirade of mid-pubescent screeches and alcoholic grunts echoing from within the house. He wanted more than anything to turn around, drive off into the distance and never come back. But Dean would never realistically do that; not when Sammy was so vulnerable and his Dad so volatile. So, in direct conflict with his reluctant feet, he trod on down to the front door and braced himself for the inevitable eruption of noise as he walked in.

“-giving you one last chance to tell me, or you’re out!”

“SEE IF I CARE!” Sam bellowed, taking Dean by surprise.

“JUST TELL ME, I HAVE A RIGHT TO KNOW!”

“NO YOU DON’T!”

“AND HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?! WHAT ARE YOU- A LAYWER?”

“In any case, I’m better at conducting an argument than you…” Sam muttered.

“ _What did you say?_ ” John seethed, his face red with fury.

“Nothing!” Dean interjected; finally having seen enough.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed in relief.

 “And where the hell’ve you been?” John started.

“Just runnin’ some errands. Looks like I came home just in time, as well- things seem to be gettin’ pretty heated in here.”

“That’s ‘cause _he_ still won’t tell me why the hell he was arrested.”

“Well, to be fair, he has no obligation to…”

“Oh, shut up, Dean,” John snapped, “don’t pretend like you’re not just as concerned about this as I am!”

“ _Concerned?”_ Sam butted in, “more like nosy- you don’t care about whether I’m okay- you only care about whether it’ll get in the way of another night drinking alone in front of the TV!”

“GO TO YOUR ROOM- NOW!” John growled loudly.

“What?!” Sam began to plead, before he noticed Dean’s eyebrows gesturing for him to accept his father’s invitation. At that, Sam stormed out of the room; eyes glassy as he slammed the living room door behind him.

“That boy…” John uttered to himself, “he needs to learn to keep in line. Never gonna get anywhere with an attitude like that.”

“Oh, c’mon Dad- don’t you think you’re being a little harsh? So what if he doesn’t wanna tell you? Maybe he’s just not ready to, yet.”

“Bullshit,” John slurred, sitting himself down and finishing off his glass of brandy, which had been basking in the dusty sunlight for what looked like all day. Dean had had enough. He couldn’t just sit here and watch his father drink himself away (although, he realised this was a rather hypocritical thought), so, he went upstairs and locked himself away in his room.

He was stressed- to put it simply enough. His shoulders were rigid and his temper was steadily rising from the day’s events. Thus, in true Dean Winchester fashion, he plucked himself a new joint from the box hidden in his potted plant and lit up. He didn’t care that everyone in the house was awake- Sam wouldn’t recognise the distinct rubbery smell, and John would be too drunk to notice.

Except, he was wrong.

Fifteen minutes later, Dean’s bedroom door swung open with a violent ‘bang’, leaving Sam framed in the doorway; his blackened eyes staring wide open as Dean spluttered and shoved the joint into a glass of water on his bedside table.

“ _Dean! What the hell?”_ Sam whispered loudly, an incredulous look upon his face, “ _you’re smoking weed?”_

“This isn’t what it looks like…” Dean trailed off, realising it was too late.

“What do you think you’re doing?! Dad’s right downstairs!” Sam whispered angrily whilst he proceeded to open some windows.

Dean rolled his eyes, “Sam, he’s drunk as a skunk. He won’t notice.”

“Yeah, well…,” Sam stuttered, “that’s not the point… how could you be so stupid?”

“It’s just _weed_ , Sam- everyone does it!”

“So what? Just because everyone else is frying their brains, doesn’t mean you should!” Sam exclaimed.

“Calm down, Sam! How do you even know what weed smells like?”

“Because I’m not a little kid, Dean. I know stuff, okay?” Sam huffed, lowering his voice slightly. Suddenly Dean snapped out of his mellow state as he felt an overwhelming wave of paranoia wash over him.

“You… you’ve... do you smoke pot, Sam?” Dean questioned, his head spinning; arms hanging heavily like metal poles from his shoulders as he rapidly entertained the idea of his little brother getting caught up with drugs. Weed wasn't exactly hard to come by in the Winchesters' part of town and picturing Sam getting caught up in that scene just didn't bear thinking about for Dean. Then, without thinking, he staggered up to Sam and shook his shoulders violently, his eyes wild and agitated as he continued to shake Sammy against his bedroom wall.

“DEAN, WHAT THE HELL? GET OFF ME!” Sam exclaimed, beyond confused by the situation. What the hell was Dean doing? Just a second ago he had been fine, but now-

“DON’T DO IT, SAMMY! STOP IT! STOP!” Dean thundered, his hands still cusping the top of Sam’s shirt as he convulsed his little brother around, trying to shake some sense into him.

“DEAN, STOP! I’M NOT DOING ANYTHING- I- I’M NOT SMOKING ANYTHING!” Sam pleaded, but to no avail. He knew that his brother must be experiencing the severe paranoia effects from whatever shit he had been smoking. It was unsettling to see the usually level-headed Dean acting so uncharacteristically irrationally. Of course, he’d had his suspicions that Dean had been smoking something funky, but he didn’t realise it’d be this bad. More than anything he was just plain terrified not only for himself, but also for his brother. How could he be so stup- “OW!” Sam gasped as Dean started violently patting him down as if searching for something.

“WHERE IS IT?!” Dean exclaimed.

“DEAN I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING! LET GO OF ME!” Sam screamed, hoping his father would hear. But John still wasn’t appearing and Dean was still refusing to release him; shaking his shoulders against the wall with a crazed look in his eyes.

Dean wailed into Sam’s face, “GIVE THEM TO M-“

SMACK!

Sam had punched Dean in the jaw with all the remaining strength he could muster. Dean recoiled; caressing his jaw in shock. He appeared to have snapped back to some kind of normality as his eyes fully focused on Sam, scanning his heavy breathing as he recovered from Dean’s grasp.

“Oh shit,” he muttered, “I- I’m so sorry- I didn’t realise-“

“Don’t, Dean.”

“But-“

“JUST STOP IT, ALRIGHT? JUST STOP! I MEAN, WHY THE HELL ARE YOU DOING THIS TO YOURSELF?!” Sam cried indignantly, his voice cracking as his throat began to close up.

“I’M SORRY, OKAY? I CAN’T HELP IT! I ONLY SMOKE IT TO RELAX! CAN’T YOU JUST CHILL?!” Dean retorted, still acting a little too aggressively for Sam’s liking.

Suddenly, the sound of clumsy footsteps could be heard ascending the staircase, sending panic through Sam and Dean as they forgot their anger and locked eyes in absolute fear. Even though Sam had been wanting his father to intervene on the situation, he couldn’t help but be completely terrified of what might happen if he found out what Dean had been doing. Sam acted instantly; grabbing Dean’s deodorant off his bedside table and spraying it around the room to mask the rubbery smell of weed. He then proceeded to throw Dean onto his bed and told him to keep his head down, away from the door, so that John wouldn’t see his reddened eyes. Thus, when their father finally entered the door, he encountered what appeared to be a reasonably normal situation.

“Would someone mind explaining what the hell that ruckus was about?” he grunted, sniffing the air in confusion.

“Sorry Sir, we were just…” Sam searched for an excuse, before noticing John’s sniffing, “having a deodorant war.”

“A _what?”_

“Dean and I got into an argument and started spraying deodorant at each other,” Sam answered, matter-of-factly.

“Okay…” John trailed off, obviously a little bewildered, “Don’t do it again.”

“Yes, Sir.”

With that, John left the room and Sam breathed an audible sigh of relief. He had been ready to start a huge argument with Dean, but now he simply could not be bothered, so left the room in silence; hoping it would send a sort of nonchalantly passive aggressive signal to Dean.

Dean clapped his hands to his face, scraping his cheeks in anger at himself for letting Sammy see him in such an intoxicated state. He was still puzzled as to how Sam, at the tender age of thirteen, could have recognised the smell which had been pulsating from his joint. He hadn’t done his job of being a big brother properly and that troubled him deeply. At least Sam seemed objected to Dean’s activity. He didn’t know why he had flipped out so badly; he’d never before been so encapsulated by the drug to the point of losing his conscience that badly. His only guess was that Jason had changed the strength of the supply without warning Dean. That, or Dean’s habit was getting out of control; a factor he didn’t want to consider.

His heart was racing and he could still feel the effects of the drug swimming through his bloodstream; a mellow, yet forebodingly menacing infection which could only be waited out. Dean hated himself for it. He’d never meant to become hooked to the substance. It had started out as a one-time thing; a night in the local park last year with Jason in which he was first introduced to the power of marijuana. But now it had become something more; a coping mechanism of sorts which Dean could no longer function without. It wasn’t even as if he craved the weed- he just hated being alone every night with only his thoughts to keep him company. The problem was that those thoughts were the sort that claw at the insides of your brain; re-surfacing every single piece of pain and self-deprecation which lined the walls of Dean’s mind. Although he was aware of the long-term detrimental effects of weed on mental health, he simply did not care. It’s not like he saw much of a future for himself anyway.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Sam had already left the house by the time Dean got up. To be honest, he didn’t blame his little brother for wanting to walk to school- the car ride would have been understandably awkward. So, Dean left the house alone, choosing to put one of his less-chosen albums in the tape deck for the ride, Air Supply’s ‘Lost in Love’. Sam always gave Dean odd looks whenever he played such soppy music, but Dean liked it and now that he was alone, he chose to grasp the opportunity.

He pulled into school and, for once, was on time for registration; a phenomenon which shocked Miss Grayson as he strolled into the classroom, a knowing smirk painted on his face. Cas was already sat in his place; an empty seat accompanying him. Although Dean had been in the mood for practically hibernating from his fellow students, he couldn’t help but notice that his feet were directing him towards the seat next to Cas. Fine, he gave up.

“Mornin’ Cas,” he said charmingly as the boy jumped; seemingly surprised that Dean had acknowledged him.

“Uh, hello, Dean,” he muttered. Dean noticed that his hair seemed a little more unruly than it had been yesterday when he’d driven off from Castiel’s house after the argument with Naomi.

“Nice hair,” he commented.

Cas looked shocked, then smiled slightly, patting his hair self-consciously, “Thanks, I uh, I wasn’t really in the mood for combing it today.”

“Well, it looks good on ya,” Dean replied. Wait, did he really just say that out loud?!

“Thanks, so does yours,” Cas responded, before realising how weird that had sounded. “I- I mean, uh, it, uh-“

“It’s okay!” Dean reassured him; feeling bad that Cas was blushing so furiously. “I know it does,” he retorted, winking jokingly. Cas laughed nervously, his face red as he gently patted his hair absent-mindedly. Dean couldn’t help but notice how cute it made him look.

No, _stylish_.

Wait, no- that made him sound like his Dad. No, ‘cute’ would suffice. It’s totally normal to think another guy is cute, right? I mean, this stuff happens all the-

“Dean?!” Cas stated alarmingly; snapping Dean out of his thoughts.

“Eh?” he asked, confused.

“What happened to your jaw?!” he queried, squinting as he considered the contusion which had surfaced overnight as a result of Sam’s punch. Dean caressed the area; he hadn’t realised just how tender it was. It couldn’t be all bad though, right? ‘Chicks dig bruises’ Dean mused, looking back at Cas.

“Oh, that? That’s nothing, just a side-effect of playing soccer with Sam,” he lied, smiling as if remembering such an event.

“Oh right. By the way, I just want to say that I’m sorry for the way my Mother acted yesterday, I didn’t think th-“

“No, no- don’t apologise! If anyone should be apologising, it should be me.”

“Why? What for?”

“I was out of line. I mean, I know your Mom was too, but still, I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Dean- really. In fact… I kind of enjoyed it. No-one’s stood up to my Mother like that since your Dad all those years ago. It was... refreshing.”

 “So, is that why you didn’t comb your hair, then? Wanted to show your Mom who’s _really boss_ , huh?” Dean chuckled. Cas just went red again.

“Something like that, yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I really struggled with this chapter, and although it's been in the works for a while, the idea of posting it just made me cringe as I have never experienced weed myself and feel very unequipped to write about such a topic. Plus, I had serious writer's block at the end- I hope it wasn't too abrupt. But hey, it is fanfiction after all and I figured my hiatus had been long enough! So thank you for putting up with me and I'll try get onto Chapter Nine ASAP! :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the long wait- I've just finished one of the most busy and stressful terms of school I think I've ever experienced, so haven't been able to update in a while. But anyway, here's a new chapter for you. I just want to add, though, that I am not a lawyer, nor an American so my depiction of legal proceedings in this fic are probably very inaccurate, but I'm trying my best! :D Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)

That evening, Sam had been scheduled for a meeting with a state defence lawyer, who had agreed to come to the family home as she could now finally legally disclose the details of Sam’s act of illegality to John. Needless to say, John was shaking when Dean arrived home, Sam in tow (although this time it was from nerves rather than excessive alcohol intake). Dean could tell from the rubbing of his forehead and the jigging of his right leg that, yes, he was relieved that he’d finally know just what Sam had done, but that he was also anxious at the possible extremity of what his youngest son was being accused of. Dean couldn’t help but notice that he felt the same way.

  
Sam, on the other hand, remained emotionless as he came downstairs upon the ring of the doorbell. Although his father had ordered him to wear his Sunday best, Sam had done the usual thing of disobeying John by choosing a baggy t-shirt and worn out jeans; his hair sweeping over his recovering face as he opened the front door.  
There stood a woman of about forty, dressed in a very conservative blazer-skirt combination, her hair pulled back lazily into a nonchalant bun. Her hazel-green eyes were striking against her dark tan skin, contrasting perfectly with the dark, glossy down of her hair.

  
Dean was enamoured.

  
He cast a quick look over to his father, who, too, appeared to be infatuated. Sam sighed, noting his family’s reactions before breaking the somewhat awkward silence, “Hi, I’m Sam. You must be Mrs Cortes?”

  
Both Dean and John’s faces fell slightly at the indication that his woman was probably married. “That’s right,” she smiled, “nice to meet you, Sam. And I assume this is your family?”

“Uh, yeah- this is my-“

  
“I’m John, Sam’s father” John cut in, reaching out to shake Mrs Cortes’ hand, his eyes twinkling.

  
“And I’m Dean!” Dean interrupted excitably. “I’m uh, Sam’s older brother,” he winked.

  
“Oh right, so where’s your younger brother, Sam?” she smiled, obviously confused.

  
“Wait, no-“ Dean interjected, embarrassed that his flirting had gone so pear-shaped, “I just meant that I’m older than Sam.”

  
“Yes, well I guessed that.”

  
Dean chuckled as if she’d said something funny. Sam groaned.

  
***

  
Once everyone was settled at the kitchen table, the atmosphere turned tense once again.

  
“So, I’m sure you’re all wondering just what it is that Samuel here has been accused of?” she began, giving Dean a strange look. She was evidently confused as to why he was involved in this meeting.

  
“Yes,” John sighed loudly, “Sam hasn’t said a word to me.”

  
“No, well, he had all the legal rights not to. But now that he’s been assigned a lawyer, I can henceforth disclose just what is going on. Mr. Winchester, this may come as a shock to you,” she began solemnly.

  
“Just… just tell me.” John muttered.

  
“Of course. On the night of Saturday the 15th of September 1996, your son, Samuel Winchester, was found to be in possession of approximately 50 grams of cannabis.”

  
Her words were met with absolute silence. Dean’s stomach turned to stone. He was in complete and utter disbelief. Looking at his little brother, he just couldn’t understand in what sort of twisted situation he would end up beaten up with a bag of weed on him. John seemed to be having an equally difficult time digesting the words; his face had been drained of all colour and his breathing had turned even heavier than before. Sam, meanwhile, had taken to staring at his feet sheepishly, knowing that if he said anything in his own defence then John would immediately explode.

“I... I don’t understand,” John murmured, looking like he’d just been hit by a truck, "and I thought Sam had been cleared of anything due to 'insufficient evidence'."

  
“I'll get onto that. First, let me make things a little clearer for you. That night, the police got a phone call down at the station at around 9:54pm. The caller had dialled 911 to report a burglar- your son.”

  
“What?! Why the hell would someone think a thirteen-year-old was a burglar?” John piped up quickly.

  
“The caller suspected that their house had been broken into earlier that day.”

  
“And just what exactly did that caller tell you?”

  
“That Samuel had been seen lurking around their neighbourhood ‘suspiciously’ a few hours after the suspected burglary”.

  
“But wait, what does this have to do with weed?!” John insisted urgently.

  
“Well, we had to follow up on the call, so the police scoured the area for a while until they eventually found Samuel near the entrance to Truman Park; unconscious from his beating-up. So, obviously they searched his pockets to find any sort of indication of identity, but instead found a small sealed bag of marijuana. From there they called some paramedics and took him to the police station, where they searched him further and found his school ID, at which point you were called down to the station. At first, we had reason to believe the weed may have been planted on Sam by whoever beat him up, but after running fingerprint tests on the bag, Sam has had his previous charges reinstated.”

  
“Look, no offence, but I’m finding this whole thing incredibly difficult to comprehend right now,” John uttered darkly.

  
“Well, to be honest, everyone involved feels the same way. Obviously there are some gaps to the story that need filling in,” Mrs Cortes replied, glancing towards Sam, “anything you want to tell us, Samuel?”

  
Sam remained silent, simply shaking his head. John looked even more frustrated now.

  
“To be fair to Samuel, he doesn’t necessarily have to tell us anything, I can still fight his case without additional information, but if you have an alibis then that would certainly help us.”

  
Sam shook his head again before placing it in his hands as he scraped them over his slightly-swollen face and through his unruly hair. With a jolt to his stomach, Dean suddenly realised that he had, in fact, been wiping away tears. The room sat still, stagnant, as everyone watched Sam with intent, wondering what to say next. After a minute or so of Sam quietly crying into his hands, he took a large gulp of air and turned to Mrs Cortes and, with a voice of almost child-like quality, asked, “Am I going to prison?”

  
She sighed heavily, before looking Sam straight in the eye and replying, “very possibly, yes.”

 

***

  
The rest of the meeting consisted of John and Sam arguing, Mrs Cortes planning, and Dean wondering guiltily whether the incriminating phone call was from Naomi Novak. Indeed, he had broken into her house earlier that day, but then again, there were plenty of houses in Truman, so who’s to say this was all Dean’s fault?

  
At least that’s what he told himself.

  
Yet, that didn’t stop Dean from wanting to curl up into a ball every time he glanced at Sam. His little brother had gone from sitting unresponsively to tearfully screaming at his father, telling him to keep his nose out of matters that didn’t concern him. Dean was almost tempted to escape to his bedroom to smoke, but now felt that this would be inappropriate considering the circumstances surrounding Sam’s arrest. Hence, he had no other option than to listen miserably as Mrs Cortes announced that Sam’s juvenile court hearing would take place in exactly a month. Needless to say, the future did not look bright.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so sorry for the long absence. I have been working on this chapter for probably about two months now, but what with being in my final year of school it has been hard to find the time to get it finished. But anyway, I've managed it, so here you go and I hope you enjoy :)

For the next few days, Dean’s school was abuzz with the news of Sam’s hearing. Everywhere Dean went, he could not escape the endless dialogue regarding the matter.

“Did you hear about what happened to Dean Winchester’s brother?” a girl behind Dean’s lunch table muttered to her friends.

“Who’s Dean Winchester?” a boy piped up.

“Y’know, that weird kid with the huge leather jacket. His brother got arrested ‘cause the cops found some weed on him. And get this, he’s only like, thirteen!” the girl replied.

“What?! But Dean’s so cute though!” another girl trailed off dreamily.

Dean was just about to get up and make his presence known, when Castiel sat himself down beside him, occupying the otherwise empty table that Dean had been brooding at.

“Dean.”

“Cas… haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Sorry… I had this big project in for today; had to work during lunchtimes.”

“Cool.”

“By the way,” Cas continued, pitying an obviously miserable Dean, “I heard about your brother. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Dean lied.

“No, no, it’s not okay. It’s evident that the whole weed thing wasn’t his idea.”

“Yeah- that’s another thing- how come everyone in this goddamned place seems to know everything about my life despite not even knowing who I am?”

Cas sighed, hating seeing Dean looking so vulnerable, “Newspapers, Dean. Now that Sam’s being charged, the public is entitled to know all about his case.”

Dean sulked, “I hate small towns.”

“I agree. At least back in North Carolina everyone lived far apart. Except for us, of course.”

Dean almost choked on his food at Cas’ mention of their childhood. “Yeah, you’re right. That was pretty cool… I guess.”

“We had some good times, Dean. I know you feel guilty about it all, but you can’t deny that our friendship was special,” Cas stated, transfixing his electric blue eyes upon Dean’s slightly blushing face. He wasn’t used to Cas being so forthright. He certainly hadn’t been this confident as a child.

“Huh, you really think so?”

“Of course. Dean, you were my best friend.”

Small smiles and silence ensued for the next couple of minutes as the two boys finished eating their lunch. It was then that Dean noticed another difference in Cas- his usually gelled back hair was sporting a messier look and Dean couldn’t help but feel a jolt in his stomach. ‘Must be this shitty school food’ he thought to himself. Yet, that excuse didn’t stop him from what he said next.

“D’ya wanna do something?”

Cas looked up, confused, “what?”

“Uh, well, I wanna do something to keep my mind off this whole Sammy thing. So, d’you wanna do something? Go somewhere?” Dean couldn’t believe the words coming out from his mouth. What the hell was he doing?

“Well, okay… sure. What would you like to do?”

“I dunno… movie maybe?”

Cas went slightly red. Dean thought it was adorable. “Sure, that would be nice.”

“Awesome, well, I’ll pick you up at 7. We’ll figure out what to watch when we get there.”

“Okay. I look forward to it.”

“Dean nodded, smiling for the first time in what felt like forever. Then Cas smiled back and there it was again, that shitty school food.

 

* * *

 

So, at 7 o’clock sharp, Dean rolled up to the mouth of Cas’ street, careful to avoid being seen by Naomi. Almost immediately, he saw Cas sneak out of his front door and walk towards the Impala. He was dressed in a light blue button-down shirt paired with black jeans that perfectly complemented his jet black hair, which was even more unruly than it had been at school earlier. Dean felt his stomach drop. Cas looked _good_ ; he’d obviously put effort into his appearance, whereas Dean was just wearing his standard leather jacket/band t-shirt combination.  To make up for it, he quickly opened his overhead mirror and ruffled his hair before getting out of the car to greet Cas.

“Hey man, you scrub up well.”

“Thank you, Dean. Uh, as do you. I like your hair.”

“Huh, thanks,” Dean smiled, scratching the back of his neck whilst gesturing for Cas to get into the car. “So, where does your Mom think you are tonight?”

“Study group. I'm actually surprised she fell for it, considering she never usually believes me when I mention anything about having friends.”

Dean chuckled as he began driving, “I can relate, but kinda in the opposite way. My Dad thinks I’m super popular like he was in high school, which you may have noticed is totally not the case.”

“What about Jason? I thought you two were friends.”

“Uh, well kinda. More like business partners. Although I’m not so sure about that anymore.”

“ _Business partners?_ ” Cas enquired.

Dean stuttered, realising he probably shouldn’t tell Cas about Jason being his dealer, “Y’know, he does my homework, I pay him, sorta thing.”

“But why? You don’t need that, you’re clever enough yourself.”

Dean blushed slightly. No one had ever told him that, “Well, I’m awfully flattered, but that’s where you’re wrong. School and me? We’re like fire and water- we don’t mix. Never have, never will. ”

“That doesn’t meant to say that you’re not clever. You can get straight Fs and still know how to build an engine or direct a movie.”

“Well, whatever. Pretty much the only things I’m good at are cars and looking after Sammy.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Dean. You’re worth more than you think,” Cas stated sincerely. Dean raised his eyebrows, before awkwardly shuffling and sticking a tape in the deck.

“Thanks Cas,” he smiled briefly as he pressed play.

 

* * *

 

Soon enough they were standing in the foyer of the cinema, looking at the board displaying the show times of various films. However, it seemed that Dean had chosen a rather dull time to see a film and the only thing showing appeared to be the new adaptation of _Romeo and Juliet_.

“What about that one?” Cas asked brightly.

“What one?”

“ _Romeo and Juliet._ Seeing as we’re studying Shakespeare in English maybe it will help with your grades?”

Dammit. Dean had been hoping Cas wouldn’t suggest that. It would be weird for two guys to go see some boring old love story. But then Dean realised that Cas genuinely cared about his concerns over his grades, and he couldn’t say no to him after that.

“Fine, _Romeo and Juliet_ it is,” Dean replied, smiling back at a happy Cas.

As they entered their designated screen, they found the room to be completely empty except for some couples dotted across the first few rows of seats. Dean couldn’t help but feel awkward as he sat down with Cas on the back row and looked down upon small clusters of the held hands and shared drinks of lovers.

Soon after that, the film began to play and, although Dean couldn’t understand a word that was being said, he did enjoy watching Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes making out on-screen and subsequently found himself placing his popcorn bag strategically on his lap. This proved to be useful in more ways than one; he and Cas were no longer awkwardly reaching into the popcorn bag at the same time- accidents which had garnered some odd looks from the nearest couple as they scrutinised what they thought was the two boys holding hands. It was better that this didn’t happen again, Dean thought, as it would be weird if they thought he and Cas were _gay_.

Pushing this thought away, Dean concentrated on the film as best as he could. However, he couldn’t help but see himself and Cas in the Montagues and Capulets; the warring families reminding him involuntarily of the tension between Naomi and John. Cas and Dean were just friends, yet Naomi had still freaked out. Dean couldn’t imagine what things would be like if he and Cas were _closer_.

Not that they would be.

Because that would be weird.

 

* * *

 

When the film eventually ended, Dean could have sworn that Cas had tears in his eyes. To be fair, it had been a pretty depressing ending, but Dean had been too busy trying to understand just what the hell was going on.

“So, did you like it, Dean?” Cas asked once they had emerged from the darkened theatre.

“Uh… yeah, it was cool.” Cas laughed slightly. “What?!” Dean responded, not understanding what was so funny.

“It’s just... well, _Romeo and Juliet_ is a classic piece of literature; revered by generations and the model of countless relationships throughout time, and you say it’s ‘cool’!” Cas laughed again.

“Well I guess my pop culture knowledge isn’t quite up to your standards. But hey, if a guy thinks _Romeo and Juliet_ is cool, that can’t be such a bad thing?” Dean shrugged.

“Not at all, Dean. It’s just funny to imagine what Shakespeare’s reaction to that would be.”

“Well, judging by all those rumours about him, I’m sure he’d be flattered.”

Cas gave Dean a funny look, before smiling gently, “Well I guess if you were to know anything about Shakespeare it would be that”.

Dean frowned, “What do you mean? Everyone knows Shakespeare had a gay side.”

“Yes, but most people deny it. It’s rather refreshing to find someone who doesn’t.”

“Oh” Dean replied awkwardly, unsure of how to respond and thus turning to pretending to look for his car keys in his pockets to break the silence. Dean was relieved when they finally reached the impala, allowing him to crank up the music as they made their way back to Cas’ street. Dean could have sworn that Cas was looking at him for an unhealthy amount of the journey, but for some reason this didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would.

As they pulled up to the corner of Cas’ street, Cas smiled and looked at Dean once more, “I really enjoyed tonight, Dean. I know you didn’t exactly want to see _Romeo and Juliet_ , but it was still good to spend time with each other again.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, “like the old days. I’ve missed you, Cas.”

Castiel looked down, his cheeks reddening slightly, “I’ve missed you too, Dean.” Cas lifted his head back to where it had been, and turned to look at Dean; his electric eyes looking more alive than ever as he slowly leant towards Dean.

“Cas, what are you doing?!” Dean panicked, remembering the way Cas had been looking at him all night and recoiling.

Cas was taken aback, his face becoming even more red with embarrassment. “Sorry, Dean… You’re right, anyone could see us here.”

“What?! No, Cas! That’s not my problem here!” Dean exclaimed angrily, “I’m not… I’m not like you, okay? You’re just… you’re just some stupid childhood friend! I knew this was a bad idea. Maybe your mom was right… maybe I should just stay away from you like I should’ve done eleven years ago!”

Cas looked horrified, his eyes watering and his breath catching as he muttered “Sorry, I thought… nevermind”. He proceeded to clamber out of the car, hitching his jacket over his slumped shoulder as he walked quickly towards his house. Suddenly, Dean felt a twinge of guilt as he watched Cas slam his front door shut. He hadn’t meant to get so angry; in fact, we wasn’t even sure why he had gotten so riled up in the first place. He didn’t know why, but seeing Cas getting so close to him had set off alarm bells in Dean’s head. ‘I mean, it makes sense’, Dean thought, ‘any straight guy is gonna get freaked out when his friend tries to come on to him’. But still, he couldn’t help but feel like a weight had dropped itself on his stomach when he saw Cas’ bedroom light switch on and his faint figure kick a bedside table, knocking it over in frustration.

Dean couldn’t bear to stare at Cas anymore, so decided to go home and cool off. However, the journey from the large houses and white picket fences of Cas’ neighbourhood to the vandalised playgrounds and closed down stores of his own part of town had not helped Dean’s anger. Something about seeing how the other half lived brought up old frustrations in Dean which he didn’t know he still had. Memories of how he would be teased as a child for his too-small clothes, and of how he wouldn’t be able to go on expensive field trips with the rest of his class still stirred a certain bitterness within him. Dean still couldn’t quite believe that at one point he had lived next door to Cas, someone who always had everything Dean did not; the latest toys, healthy food on the table every night and two parents who loved him. But now Cas’ dad had left, and, as much as Dean hated himself for it, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of smugness at the fact that Cas’ perfect bubble of life had been popped.

 

* * *

 

When Dean arrived home, he found Sam on the sofa watching cartoons, still in his pyjamas and his greasy hair in strands in front of his face.

“Sammy?” Dean asked tentatively.

No response.

“Sammy!”

“It’s Sam,” the younger brother murmured back.

“Okay, _Sam_ , now that you’re listening I guess you can tell me whether you went to school today?”

Sam grunted.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“God, Dean, you’re such a _hypocrite_! I mean, you skip school practically once a week! Can’t I do it just this once?”

“No, Sam.”

“Why not?”

“Because, _Sam_ , you’re smart. You have the chance to get out of this crappy town and make something of yourself!”

“So do you, Dean!”

“Oh c’mon! I think we both know that the only thing I’m good at is fixing up cars. It’s always been this way- I’m gonna take on the family business and you… you’re gonna go your own way.” Dean hated the thought of Sam eventually leaving, but knew it was inevitable and could deny it no longer.

“Look Dean, I skipped out on _one_ day of school. I just didn’t want to face everyone after everything that happened, okay? The last few days at school have been crap and I just wanted a break. And how can you say I have such a great future ahead of me when I might be going to jail in a month?!”

“Trust me, Sam, you’re going to be okay. The judge’ll realise it was all a big mistake and that the weed wasn’t yours.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Huh?”

“What makes you think that the weed wasn’t mine?” Sam asked, a hint of panic in his voice.

“I know you won’t tell me what happened, but the fact that you were _beaten up_ tells me that there must be some coward out there who’s got you into all this trouble.”

“You’re wrong, Dean. It was mine, okay?!”

“Don’t lie, Sam.”

“I’m not lying,” Sam replied sternly, his stubborn eyes boring into Dean’s.

“Sam, you don’t have to protect anyone here, I’m not stupid, I know that-“

“STOP IT, DEAN!” Sam interjected, “I’M NOT LYING, OKAY? HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU?!”

“ _Okay_ …” Dean sighed to himself, “You can keep telling yourself that, but you’ll never have me convinced, Sammy.”

“Oh, shut up, Dean! How can you preach about telling the truth about this whole weed thing when YOU’RE the one who has a secret stash of the stuff in your bedroom!”

“What?” Dean exclaimed, trying to act nonplussed.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I know you smoke it, Dean. Don't you remember me catching you in the act the other night? So how can you berate me about what happened to me when you’re the one lighting up every night!?”

“Okay, first of all Sam, I am _not_ ‘berating’ you! I’m trying to help you! And secondly, the reason I smoke at night is so that _you_ wouldn't find out and decide to do the same thing!”

“But if you know it’s bad then why do you do it?” Sam asked, eyes narrowed.

“Whoops, looks like you just answered your own question,” Dean replied bitterly.

“What?”

“Look Sam, I know it’s bad for me. I just… don’t care.” Dean ran his hands through his hair, looking anywhere but at Sam’s confused gaze.

Sam took a moment, before speaking again, “Dean… are you okay?”

“It’s just been a long day, alright?” he muttered, slumping down onto an armchair and staring at the jarringly happy cartoon that was playing out on the TV.

“Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so annoying,” Sam resigned, “I’ll go to school tomorrow.”

“Good,” Dean responded.

Silence followed for the next few minutes, until Dean realised why the house was so quiet. “Sam, where’s Dad?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. He said he’d be out of town for a few days.”

Dean was unsurprised, “Did he say why?”

“I dunno. I think he just needed to clear his head or whatever it is he does whenever he goes away.”

Dean frowned. Although he knew that John wasn’t exactly father of the year, he still resented the bitterness in Sam’s voice whenever he spoke of his dad. But now wasn’t the time to argue with Sam about that, so Dean simply asked whether he’d had any dinner.

“If cereal for the fourth night in a row counts, then yeah, I guess.”

“Sorry I haven’t been around much recently,” Dean said sincerely, “I should be taking better care of you.”

“It’s fine. _I’m_ fine. Besides, it’s not your responsibility to look after me. That’s Dad’s job. Although, I gotta say that I am curious as to what you’ve been doing recently.”

“What?” Dean asked, confused.

“Well, you were obviously out with someone tonight, which would explain why you’ve been so away with the fairies lately. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’d say that you’ve got a crush,” Sam laughed.

“Haha, very funny,” Dean chuckled nervously.

“So I’m right?”

“What?! No! No, I’ve just been in detention, that’s all.”

“Dean, who has detentions until 10pm?”

“Well, I guess I’ve been a very naughty boy.”

“Well, that’s one way of putting it,” Sam teased.

“Oh shut up, Sam, I’ve not got a crush, okay? I’ve just been busy. Speaking of, all work and no play has made me tired, so I’m going to bed.”

“’Kay, I’ll lock up,” Sam replied, still smirking.

Dean was relieved to get out of the living room. He could feel the same panic he felt when Cas tried to kiss him return. Dean didn’t have a crush, yet for some reason the fact that Sam thought he did worried him slightly. Dean flopped onto his bed, frustrated and confused. Although he knew that weed would help to calm him down, he knew he couldn’t smoke tonight; not after his argument with Sam. So, he simply lay there, staring at his ceiling and wondering how the hell he was going to be able to face Cas at school the next day. Maybe Sam's 'day off' argument did hold some validity after all.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I hope you enjoy this new chapter. Many apologies on the slow update and thank you for your patience; it's taken me a long time to figure this chapter out, but anyway, at least it's done now :)

Getting ready for school the next morning was proving even harder than usual. Dean would happily throw himself into the sun if it meant that he would never have to face Cas again. Why did he have to come onto him like that? Everything had been going fine until then. It also didn’t help that Dean could barely concentrate as he drove to school, what with the fact that he had spent half the night staring at his ceiling; going over the evening’s events in his head and trying to figure out why he hadn’t realised sooner that Cas had some sort of a _crush_ on him. All those long stares, awkward silences and compliments were signs that Dean had seen so many times before from various ex-lovers in the past; yet, for some reason, he hadn’t put together the pieces of the puzzle when it came to Castiel. He had _seen_ that picture of Cas with the blonde boy in photograph in his bedroom and he’d known upon seeing it that this boy _had_ to be more than a friend. So how come Dean hadn’t considered that Cas may view him in that way too? Regardless, all that Dean knew was that he had to avoid Cas at all costs; not only would it be incredibly embarrassing to see Cas again so soon after the previous night, but he also couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else noticing Cas’ more-than-friendly behaviour towards himself.

As expected, registration that morning was stiflingly awkward as Dean tried his hardest to evade all potential eye contact with Castiel; succeeding in doing so despite Cas’ furtive looks in Dean’s direction. Eventually, the tension came to a head when the two boys realised that, due to their mutual attempts to leave the classroom last after registration ended so as to avoid each other, they had both unwittingly caused themselves to be alone together.

“Wait, Dean-“ Cas pleaded, as Dean made his way towards the door.

“WHAT?!” Dean retaliated angrily, turning around as Cas tugged on his bag.

“I-I just wanted to say- I’m sorry,” Cas implored, looking at Dean with sorrowful eyes. “I thought… I thought you liked me… but I guess I was wrong.”

“Well, at least you’re right about one thing,” Dean retorted, with a pang of guilt telling him that perhaps he had been a little harsh.

“Okay, well-“

“Just stay away from me. Please.”

And with that, Dean left the classroom, his heart jumping in his throat as he continued down the corridor before skulking into an empty bathroom. He proceeded to quickly splash his face with water in an attempt to calm himself down. He hadn’t meant to get so riled up, but for some reason he just couldn’t stifle the ever-increasing feeling of frustration that was bubbling in him like a volcano close to eruption. He looked at himself in the mirror, studying the heat that was reddening in his cheeks and the glassed-over appearance of his green eyes as he considered himself. Dean had been told several times that he was attractive, with his long eyelashes, ample lips and light dusting of freckles supposedly giving him an air of cuteness; something he had begun to loathe of recent. No matter how hard he tried, he always looked faintly feminine in comparison to other boys his age and, in spite of his brother’s younger age and longer hair, he knew that Sam would soon fulfil the masculine silhouette that Dean longed so much for himself. He continued to scrutinise himself, feeling his breathing slowly hike up until, suddenly, he could no longer help but kick the pedestal of the sink which was situated directly below the mirror. Although his toes were now throbbing as a result of their impact with the pedestal, he did feel somewhat better, as though he were a punctured balloon which was slowly and calmly sinking to the ground.

Eventually, Dean mustered up the energy to vacate the bathroom and make his way to his first class of the day, Physics.

“Dean! Where have you been? You’re ten minutes late!” exclaimed his teacher, Mr. Sharma as he tried, but failed, to slip discreetly into the back of the classroom.

“Sorry, I got locked in the bathroom,” Dean lied confidently, smiling as he set his bag down on his usual desk and sat down.

Mr. Sharma eyed him suspiciously, “Okay, well you still need to make up the lesson time, so I’ll expect you here at break time for ten minutes.”

“What? Oh, c’mon Mr. Sharma, it’s not my fault this stupid ass school can’t afford working bathroom locks!” Dean retorted, feeling his previous frustration starting to resurface and the weight of the whole class’ eyes staring at him.

“Dean, if you interrupt my lesson any further, then it’s going to have to be a lunchtime detention.”

“Hey, all I’m doing is standing up for myself!”

“Dean, I’m warning you-“

“Oh no, I’m so scared!” Dean taunted, a smirk on his face.

“Enough of the attitude! Be here at 12:30 so we can talk about your unacceptable behaviour,” Mr. Sharma said sharply, noting something down in his planner. ‘Damn it’, Dean thought, chastising himself.

 

* * *

 

By the time lunch had rolled around, Dean was seriously considering bunking off in an attempt to avoid his detention. However, the realisation that this would inevitably lead to further detentions brought Dean back to his senses as he made his way reluctantly to Mr. Sharma’s classroom.

“Ah, Dean,” the teacher exclaimed as Dean wandered into the room, “Put your bag down and come sit here, please,” Mr. Sharma requested; gesturing at a desk which sat directly opposite his own. Dean responded by dropping his bag on the floor carelessly and slumping into his assigned chair, giving a sarcastic smile as he faced Mr. Sharma.

“Now, before we start, I thought you might like to know that I inspected the locks of every single boys’ bathroom in the school earlier and found, to my  _surprise_ , that they were all, in fact, working perfectly. Would you like to explain to me the real reason you were late this morning?” Mr. Sharma spoke calmly, sitting at his desk and crossing his arms.

“Bite me.”

Mr. Sharma frowned as he considered his next move, “Dean, have you ever considered making an appointment with the school’s guidance counsellor?”

Dean was confused by this sudden change of tone, “What?”

“I’ve been teaching you for quite some time now, Dean, and I can’t help but notice your reluctance to… engage,” Mr. Sharma finished after a long pause.

_“Engage?”_ Dean asked incredulously, before leaning back in his chair, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, I think you do. Dean, every lesson you pretend not to care about Physics and act like you haven’t got a _clue_ what’s going on. Yet, every single piece of work you produce for me contradicts this. You’re a very capable student, and you have the potential to go _so_ far, but you consistently put yourself down and forbid yourself from openly excelling at Physics in front of your classmates. Surely you must realise that this isn’t healthy behaviour?” Mr. Sharma implored, leaning closer to Dean in an attempt to get his message across.

Dean was dumbfounded. He had expected shouting, a call home, an hour of writing lines- anything but this. His heart started to pick up pace as Dean felt a sense of violation of privacy at Mr. Sharma’s words.

“Bullshit,” Dean replied angrily, not sure how else to react.

“Dean, I’m just trying to help you-“

“Yeah? Well I don’t need help. You don’t _know_ me!” Dean started, getting out of his chair and shoving it under the desk aggressively.

“Dean, please-“

“Look, I ain’t some screwed up freak, okay?” Dean exclaimed, holding his hand to his head in frustration as he made his way to the door, before turning around to face his teacher, “have you ever thought that maybe the reason I don’t _engage_ is because you’re a crappy teacher?” And with that, Dean slammed the classroom door behind him and walked down the corridor and out of the building, his teeth clenched. He couldn’t believe the nerve on Mr. Sharma. Telling him he should see the school shrink?! ‘How dare he?’ Dean thought to himself as he sat himself down beside a wall on the edge of campus and lit up a cigarette in an attempt to calm himself down.

For the next 15 minutes, Dean sat there, inhaling deep drags of smoke and watching cars drive past behind the school fence. Thankfully for Dean, he had picked a strategically-placed area of the school which was mostly avoided by the staff and student body, or so he thought, until he noticed a brunette girl approaching him out of the corner of his eye. It was Lisa Braeden; someone Dean was only friends with via Jason, but whom he had always had a soft spot for.

“Dean? What are you doing here?” Lisa questioned, looking surprisingly concerned for someone who was barely friends with him.

“I could ask you the same question,” Dean replied sullenly.

“I was just taking a walk,” she replied defensively, crossing her arms as she stood above Dean.

“Why? Where are your friends?” Dean enquired, surprised that such a popular girl was alone at lunch time.

“They’re your friends too, y’know. As am I.”

Dean guffawed, “No you’re not… not really. You only hang out with me because of Jason.”

“That’s not true,” Lisa replied, looking slightly put-out as she sat down beside Dean, took his cigarette firmly out of his mouth and shoved it against the tarmac beneath them. “If I’m not your friend, then why did I just do that?”

Dean was taken aback by Lisa’s forwardness, “because you’re an eco-warrior.”

Lisa sighed “no Dean, I did it because I _am_ your friend; because I _care_. No matter how much you try to push people away, people do actually care about you.”

“For fuck’s sake, what is it with everyone trying to psycho-analyse me today!” Dean stood up angrily, reaching for another cigarette out of his pocket.

“What?” Lisa replied, confused as to what she had done wrong.

“First Mr. Sharma, now you! Why does everyone think I’ve got some sort of problem with people?!” Dean exclaimed angrily, becoming more frustrated as his lighter refused to ignite.

After several moments of silence, Lisa grew tired of watching Dean struggle with the lighter and proceeded to knock it out of his hands.

“What was that for?” Dean retorted irritably.

“Look Dean, whatever happened today in your detention, you need to take a breather. Correct me if I’m wrong, but there’s obviously something else going on which is bothering you and causing you to… to act like _this;_ something which you need to address in a healthy-“

“Shut up.”

Lisa looked offended, “I’m just trying to help…”

“Well don’t. I didn’t ask you to and I don’t need your so-called advice, okay?”

“And there you have it- living proof that, as soon as someone tries to be nice to you, you push them away! I mean, you sit in your car all lunch time and avoid every gathering we invite you to, yet you say we only hang out with you because of _Jason?_ Are you really so self-pitying that you can’t take kindness when it’s handed to you on a plate?!”

The two stared at each other for what felt like aeons. Although Lisa’s words weren’t exactly welcoming, he had to admit that he had been a little harsh on her.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, ashamed at how irate he had gotten.

Lisa gave a small smile, “It’s okay- I… I just don’t want you thinking that no-one cares, because that’s simply not the case.”

Dean nodded slightly, still wary of Lisa’s words but desperate to end what had been a very awkward conversation. “Anyway, I’d best be going- haven’t eaten yet.”

As Dean started to walk off back towards the cafeteria, he heard Lisa shout his name from behind him. “Just so you know, my parents are out of town on Saturday and I’m having a get-together, so… if you wanna come then be at no. 26, Maple Avenue at 7,” and with that, she gave another small smile and left, leaving Dean feeling guilty for snapping at Lisa so much. Although he still had his reservations about Jason’s ‘gang’, he had to admit that he had perhaps he had been too quick to judge some of its members. But now he had another matter on his hands; Lisa’s ‘get-together’. It wasn’t that Dean didn’t like parties- because he did (who could complain when there was free alcohol and chicks involved?), but it just seemed so wrong to go out and party and leave Sam home alone and miserable. But maybe… maybe this was what he needed; a chance to socialise and get away from everything for a few hours. Dean sighed, glad he had two full days to decide whether or not to go.

Dean’s mood was actually beginning to improve as he made his way to the cafeteria to grab some food. That was, until he noticed Cas sitting alone on a bench, eating what appeared to be a packed lunch. Feeling awkward, Dean tried his best to nonchalantly walk past Cas, pretending he wasn’t there, but this ultimately failed as the two boys found themselves making brief, but intense eye contact. Dean kept walking confidently into the cafeteria, but he suddenly felt the weight of guilt press down upon him. Cas had looked unmistakably _sad_ at the sight of Dean, and Dean couldn’t help but hate himself for ignoring him, even if talking to him would have been more awkward. Dean knew exactly what it felt like to be lonely; to sit alone at lunch and watch all the other kids play with their friends, and he knew that the way he was treating Cas was probably uncalled for, but he just did not know how else to react to Cas’ attempt to come on to him. He couldn’t just pretend it hadn’t happened, but at the same time he couldn’t really blame Cas for misinterpreting the whole movie ‘date’ thing. These thoughts echoed in his head for the remainder of the day as he returned home, refusing to rest despite Dean’s desperate efforts to distract himself by actually doing his homework for once.

‘That’s it’, Dean thought to himself after a long two hours of essay-writing, ‘I’m going to that damn party- anything just to stop thinking about this whole _stupid_ thing’.

Sam looked over at Dean from across the table where he was also doing his homework, “You okay, Dean?”

“Yeah, why?” Dean asked, alarmed as he remembered Sam’s presence.

“It’s just that you put your pen down kinda violently,” Sam chuckled slightly, nodding at the crappy pen that Dean had been writing with, which was now sitting on the table and sporting a crack down the length of its plastic body.

“Sorry, just… homework, y’know…”

“Yeah, I wasn’t gonna ask, but now you mention it, since when have you spent _two whole hours_ on homework?” Sam marvelled.

“Well, it’s not like there’s anything better to do ‘round here. Speaking of- I’m going to a party Saturday night, you gonna be okay here on your own?” Dean questioned, looking Sam directly in the eye.

“Uh, yeah? Is that even a question? I swear I’m home alone more often than I’m not.”

“I know, I know, but after all that’s happened recently I just wanna make sure you’re alright.”

“I’ll be fine, honestly,” Sam reassured his older brother, frustrated by Dean’s mollycoddling.

“That may be, but I’ll put the address of the place I’ll be at on a note so, if you need me, you come there, okay?”

“Dean, you _really_ don’t-“

“Yes, I _really_ do. I’m your brother, it’s my job to look after you, “ Dean replied affectionately, tussling Sam’s hair as he got up out of his seat. “Now, what do you want for dinner, little bro?”

“We still got those Lucky Charms?” Sam asked, giving Dean his best puppy dog eyes, something Dean hadn’t seen in a while. He smiled, relieved to see Sam acting like his normal self for once.

“I think today might be your lucky day!” Dean remarked happily as he entered the kitchen and inspected the half-full packet of Lucky Charms sitting on the counter.

As Dean re-entered the room with the cereal, Sam grinned from ear to ear and Dean was reminded of just how much he’d missed bonding with his little brother like this.

“I love you Sammy, never forget that.”

Sam looked surprised, but happy nonetheless.

“I love you too.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the absence- it turns out that uni has been busier than I had anticipated! However, thanks to all your lovely comments I motivated myself to finish this chapter sooner than I had expected, so here you go and I hope you enjoy :) Also, just a warning that there is a bit of homophobic language featured in this chapter, but I tried to keep it to a minimum.

Soon enough, Saturday rolled around and at 5 pm, Dean found himself in his bedroom, deciding what to wear for Lisa’s ‘party’. Normally he would just drag on any old ensemble and not spare another thought about it, but for some reason he had the unusual urge to put an effort into his outfit. So there he was, dressed only in boxers and staring at his wardrobe; clothes strewn all over the floor and his hair still drying from a quick shower. After a while, he decided to try out an old purple button-down shirt and his nicest pair of jeans.

“Hey, Sammy!” Dean called out from his bedroom.

“What?” Sam shouted back from his own room.

“C’mere.”

“Why?”

“Quit being a little bitch and come here!” Dean exclaimed, waiting patiently until Sam eventually appeared in his doorway.

“Woah, Dean… are you going on a date or something?” Sam asked incredulously, taking in Dean’s appearance.

Dean squinted, “Ha. Very funny.”

Sam furrowed his brow, “So… is that a yes or a no?”

“What? No! No, it’s just a party.”

“Oh, right. Whose party?”

“None of your business.”

“Okay… so why exactly did you call me in here?”

“Oh! Well, uh…” Dean suddenly felt his face heating up as he felt a twinge of embarrassment, “I just wanted your opinion… On my outfit, y’know.”

Sam raised his eyebrows and guffawed; surprised that Dean was asking him such a question, “Seriously?”

“Don’t laugh” Dean sighed, annoyed.

“I’m not… Nevermind, uh, I guess I can see the whole look you’re going for, but it’s not quite working. That purple shirt is a little dark for a party, don’t you think?”

Dean looked down at his shirt, frowning, “What d’you mean?”

“Well, for parties, people usually wear something smart, but fun. I think you’d be better off with a t-shirt and a nice flannel to go on top.”

“Dude, could you _be_ more gay?” Dean replied.

Sam inwardly groaned, “Do you want my help or not?”

“Fine. So, what, you think I should wear something more like this?” Dean asked, holding up a black AC/DC t-shirt and a dark blue flannel.

“Yeah, exactly!”

“Great, thanks Sam,” Dean muttered as he proceeded to push his little brother out of his room.

“Wait!” Sam blurted out, pushing against the weight of Dean pushing him out into the landing.

“What?!” Dean asked, irritated.

“Remember some breath mints,” Sam grinned, sniggering as Dean batted him away and slammed the door in front of him.

“Just a party, Sam!” Dean proclaimed from inside his bedroom as he ignored his brother’s faint giggling and set to work on his hair.

An hour and a half later, Dean was ready to go, and in addition to his outfit, he had perfectly tousled his hair and made sure he smelt his best. It wasn’t like he particularly wanted to impress anyone at the party; rather just make sure they knew that he’d made an effort and that he _wanted_ to be there and _wanted_ to be friends with them. Now all he had to do was _not fuck it up_.

 

* * *

 

 _‘Well that’s certainly easier said than done,’_ Dean thought to himself as he rolled up to Lisa’s house at 7:15pm, a six pack in one hand and his car keys in the other. As he walked up to the green front door of Lisa’s modest-looking house, he could hear the light babble of teenage conversation playing over what sounded like Nirvana’s ‘Lithium’. Although he couldn’t help but feel nervous as he went to knock on the door, he reminded himself that he was there to have fun and, as Lisa opened the door, he slapped a large, cocky smile onto his face and greeted her confidently.

“Dean! You came!” she beamed.

“Of course. I love parties, wouldn’t wanna miss this,” he smiled back, a hint of charm in his voice.

“Great, well come on right in,” she gestured, leading Dean across the threshold and straight ahead into the kitchen. As he walked behind her, he took in his surroundings; smiling family photos arranged neatly on the walls of the spacious corridor, a plush carpet muffling the sounds of his footsteps and the distinct smell of perfume tickling Dean’s throat.

“You wanna beer?” Lisa asked.

“Uh, no I’m good thanks,” Dean replied, holding up his six pack for Lisa to see.

“Oh cool. Okay, well let’s just go straight into the living room then.”

So, Dean found himself being guided into another room, where the music could be heard at full volume, being enjoyed by a small group of his acquaintances, who were already indulging themselves with several cans of beer and shared blunts.

“Dean! M’boy! C’mere man!” exclaimed Jason from across the room, giggling before continuing, “I’ve got something I know you’re gonna like.”

“Let, me guess, pot?” Dean replied, laughing awkwardly as he placed himself down on the floor next to Jason.

“Ha! How’d you guess?”

“Sorta obvious from the smell of this place.”

“Oh yeah,” Jason, Dean’s dealer and vague ‘friend’ chuckled, “we should probably open a window”.

“Dude, no! What if someone smelt it?” a boy named Zach shouted meagrely.

“Yeah, no windows open I’m afraid guys, I don’t want the neighbours telling my parents about any funky smells when they get back,” stated Lisa as she proceeded to sit down next to Dean.

“So, is everyone here now, Lis”? Asked Jo, greeting Dean with a smile.

“Uh-huh. Anyone wanna play a game?” Lisa replied.

“What sorta game?” Zach leered.

“Not _that_ sorta game, you creepy shit,” Jo replied, punching Zach in the arm playfully.

“What? Not even spin the bottle?” Jason whined, to which Lisa responded with an endearing glare. “Alright, alright! What about truth or dare?”

“Ugh, _fine._ ” Lisa smirked.

“Haha,yes!” Jason cheered, high-fiving a slightly drunk and giddy Zach, “Okay, we’ll go around the circle and each person has to pick truth or dare.”

“And if they don’t want to do either?” Dean asked, causing everyone to stare at him as he finally spoke.

Jason paused for a second, considering Dean before responding, “Why? You a pansy, Dean?”

The room went silent for a moment as everyone looked expectantly at a slightly taken-aback Dean. What did Jason mean? That he was a wimp, or something _more?_ Dean stuttered slightly as he replied, “Wh-what? No. No! I’m not a… I was just wondering, y’know? Like for forfeits?”

Suddenly Lisa, supposedly sensing the slight tension in the room, spoke, “Oh yeah, good idea Dean, we should figure one out before we start.” Dean turned towards Lisa and gave her a small smile to thank her for her support.

“What? No, that’d spoil the surprise! And that’s the fun part!” Zach giggled oddly.

“Although I think Zachy-boy here needs to calm his shit, I have to regretfully agree. The forfeit should be a surprise. After all, that is half the fun,” Jason smirked, expressing a tone of vindication in his voice.

Lisa sighed, “Alright then. Let’s play.”

 

* * *

 

After about an hour, the group had become progressively higher (except for Dean, who was abstaining after what had happened to Sam) and drunker, and the game of truth or dare was becoming increasingly interesting for all those involved. People had mostly chosen dares, which had resulted in incidences such as Jo prank calling her mother about needing condoms; Zach running around Lisa’s street naked; Lisa knocking on her neighbour’s door to complain about hearing ‘sex noises’ and Jason necking a bottle of hot chilli sauce.

“Alright,” Jason croaked, still suffering from the chilli sauce, “Dean’s turn… FINALLY!”

“Haha, yes! Deeeeenie Weeeeenie’s turn!” Zach tittered, swaying slightly, before Jason grabbed his face, laughed sarcastically and then told him to shut up.

“So, truth or dare?” Jo asked Dean.

Dean was tempted to go with a dare, but at the same time was cautious that if he did anything illegal, it would cause even more trouble for his family, so he answered, “Truth.”

Everyone looked vaguely surprised, except for Jason, who appeared to already be cooking up a question for Dean. “Alright… Here’s a question for you then, _Deano_. That weirdo ‘ _Castiel’_ you hang around with… is it true he’s a f*ggot?”

Dean’s heart stopped momentarily as he felt the room’s eyes on him.

“I-I… what? What sorta question is that?”

“Hey, it’s just a joke! What’s the matter, huh? Too close to home for you?” Jason retorted.

“Uh- I think what Dean means is that the truths are supposed about Dean himself, rather than anyone else,” Lisa interjected.

Jason was obviously disgruntled, “Fine. I guess as you don’t want to do the truth anymore, we’d better get you to do a dare instead.”

“I guess,” Dean replied, irritated and slightly shaken. Lisa looked at him and squeezed his leg supportively, which had the peculiar effect of both calming Dean down and increasing his heart rate.

“Okay then,” Jason smiled smugly, “I dare you to call up that fairy _‘Castiel’_ and tell him you’re queer for him.”

Lisa, whose hand was still on Dean’s leg, gave it another squeeze before speaking for Dean, “Jason, no. That’s not funny, it’s just mean.”

“Woah, _okay_! God, someone’s obviously on their period.”

“Oh, shut up, Jason.” Jo joined in.

“ _Ooh! Shut up, Jason!”_ Jason retorted, trying but failing to mimic Jo, to which she replied with a disdainful glare.

“Fine,” he continued, “As this _pansy_ here doesn’t want to do the truth _or_ the dare, I guess he’ll have to do the forfeit. So I say, how about you two lovebirds go into that closet over there for a bit of seven minutes in heaven?” he said, looking at Lisa and Dean. “After all, what with Dean avoiding anything involving that f*ggot Cas, it’s about time he proved to us that he’s not a _pansy_ after all.”

Dean was ready to leave the party there and then and just forget about Jason and his stupid game. However, he was now too drunk to drive home and Lisa’s house was in no way within walking distance to his house. Moreover, it troubled him how Jason kept ‘joking’ about him being _gay_ \- or _something_ along those lines, and, to be quite honest, Dean wouldn’t exactly be averse to being alone in a closet with Lisa Braeden; whether they actually did anything or not.

“Okay,” he sighed, “as long as it’s okay with Lisa?”

Lisa smiled and stood up, grabbing Dean’s hand, “Sure.”

“Alright!” Jason grinned, “You two have exactly 7 minutes from now. Go!”

As Lisa led Dean into the closet in the corner of the room, he glanced at the others in the room. Although Zach appeared too off-his-head to care, Jo was still within the realm of consciousness, and was picking at a piece of awry carpet awkwardly.

The cupboard was a bit of a squeeze, but the two teenagers just about managed to shut the door.

“I’m sorry about this, Lis,” Dean whispered.

“That’s okay. Truth be told, I’m glad you said yes to this.”

“What? Why?” Dean asked, feeling his palms beginning to sweat.

“Well, firstly I’m glad you didn’t succumb to Jason’s homophobic bullshit about Castiel- you’re a good friend to him. And, well, secondly… I guess being stuck in a closet with you for seven minutes isn’t exactly the worse thing in the world.”

Dean was lost for words. Of course he found Lisa attractive too, but he didn’t necessarily have a crush on her or anything. He took a big sigh, knowing he would probably later regret what he was about to say, “That’s … Look Lisa, I’m not gonna go about pretending that I’m not attracted to you, because then I’d probably be lying. But, I just don’t think this is the right way to go about doing anything with each other. You’re a little drunk and, well, so am I-“

“But Dean, I don’t mind-“

“No, Lisa. I’m sorry, but I really just don’t want to do anything right now, alright?”

Lisa looked put-out, but still seemed sober enough to understand what Dean was saying, “Okay… I guess.”

And so the two teenagers spent the remaining 6 minutes in the closet, avoiding any more conversation, but inevitably making the occasional awkward eye contact.

“Alright, you two had better stop your canoodling, your time is up!” Jason announced sleazily as he opening the closet door, only to have his smarmy smile fall slightly as Dean and Lisa emerged, their innocence obvious.

“You can stop your gawking, Jason, we didn’t do anything, okay?” said Lisa, sounding crestfallen.

“Yeah, I guessed that,” he replied, before whispering to Dean, “what the hell, man? I guess the rumours are true, huh?”

“What? No! Don’t be stupid,” Dean retorted, frustrated, “I just didn’t wanna take advantage of her, she’s drunk.”

“Yeah, sure...” Jason replied sarcastically.

Dean, who was already on edge, had reached his final straw, “Okay, you know what, Jason? You need to stop with all this gay bullshit, alright? It’s not funny and it’s just _dumb.”_

“Why, you worried people might think it’s true?” Jason taunted.

“No, I just think it’s your stupid attempt to stir up shit for no reason and I’m sick of it, alright?”

“Fine, you wanna be all angsty with me? No problem, but just know that I don’t sell to _f*gs_ ,” Jason spat hatefully, causing Dean to suddenly launch at him and tackle him to the ground, holding his arms against the floor; anger spilling from his mouth as he spoke.

“I’M NOT A F*G!”

“You see, Dean, you can say that,” Jason muttered through gritted teeth as he unsuccessfully attempted to fight against Dean’s stance, “but you’re the one who just chose to pin another guy ground and straddle him.”

And with that, Dean could no longer restrain himself and he unleashed his anger onto Jason, punching him square in the jaw. However, before he could continue, he felt someone grabbing him from behind and lifting him off of Jason. He turned around to see Jo, who was a lot stronger than Dean had imagined. “C’mon, Dean- he’s not worth it,” she stated, glancing at Jason with contempt. As Dean eventually complied with Jo and stood up, he caught a glimpse of Zach, who looked to be asleep, and Lisa, who appeared shaken and, sure enough, feelings of regret and self-loathing began to seep in as Dean calmed down. He took one last look at everyone in the room, including a shocked Jason, before leaving the room and exiting the house, too ashamed to say goodbye to Lisa.

The drive back home was a silent one. Dean was too drunk and fired up to even think about putting a tape in the deck, and instead opted to open his side window to the cold night air in a feeble attempt to calm himself down. On any other night, he wouldn’t dream of driving home in such as state of intoxication, but with his father out of town and his emotions running high, he simply did not care.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Dean split his time between cringing at his actions from the night before, worrying about why Jason thought he was _gay_ , and fighting the urge to go and hit him with another punch. It certainly didn’t help that what Dean _really_ wanted to do was to smoke some pot and forget about his problems, especially what with his temporary abstinence after the Sam situation and the fact that Jason was his dealer.

And then Monday came.

To say Dean was nervous was an understatement. If it weren’t for the fact that he had to drop Sam off at school, he probably would have stayed in bed all day; eating pie and reading the latest issue of _Busty Asian Beauties._ However, he knew that hiding away would only exacerbate his anxieties, and so he found himself yet again pulling into his school’s car park, and yet again dreading going to his classes.

The first hurdle Dean had to jump came as early as morning registration. As soon as he walked into the classroom (late as per usual), his classmates’ chattering immediately took the form of rapid whispering, sniggers and stares. However, as he sat down, he decided not to give the students the picture of himself that they wanted, and instead faked a cheeky smile and pretended as if it were a day like no other. This thankfully worked as well as Dean could have hoped for, and the muttering around him soon stopped. In fact, Dean had almost forgotten all about his problems until registration eventually ended and, upon exiting the classroom, he spotted Lisa across the corridor.

Although Dean instantly turned around in a meagre attempt to avoid her, Lisa quickly caught up to him and tapped him on the shoulder, “Uh, hi Dean.”

Dean turned sheepishly to face Lisa, unable to look her in the eye, “Hi, Lisa.”

“Um, Dean, I just wanted to say thank you for the other night.”

“What do you mean? I beat up your friend in your house-“

“No, I don’t mean that, I mean… Oh God this is so embarrassing… I meant thank you for, y’know, not taking _advantage_ of me.”

“Oh!” Dean smiled briefly, “You don’t have to thank me for that, it’s just common sense, really.”

“Yeah, well some guys would disagree.”

“Huh, I guess,” Dean nodded.

“Oh, and Dean, I’m not excusing you for what you did to Jason- violence isn’t okay. However, I just want you to know that I understand why you were angry, and I think he was also in the wrong.”

“Thanks… and I’m sorry about what I did to Jason. It was a dick move.”

Lisa considered Dean, “True, but don’t go beating _yourself_ up about it, too.”

“Thanks Lis,” Dean replied; letting out a small, nervous laugh as he began to turn away to go to his first class of the day.

“Wait, Dean! Before you go- I just thought you should know- everyone’s talking about you,” Lisa stated, a sorry look in her eyes.

“Yeah, I guessed Jason went around spreading some rumours about me and you not doing anything, but honestly I don’t car-“

“No, Dean… I don’t know why, but everyone seems to think the opposite happened.”

Dean was confused, “Huh, what do you mean?”

“I- I think Jason told everyone that we _did_ actually do stuff when we were in the closet.”

“What? Why?” Dean enquired, not sure whether he was pissed off or bewildered.

“I don’t know. Honestly, I have no clue.”

Dean ran his hand across his face, “Well, fuck ‘em. At least we know the truth. That’s all that really matters.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Lisa replied, smiling before suddenly standing up straight and kissing Dean on the cheek, “Thanks.”

She then walked away and, if Dean wasn’t confused before, then he certainly was now. But, before he could properly process what had just happened, he looked up to see Castiel’s face from across the corridor, slack-jawed and gawping at Dean. He stared back at Cas, taking all of him in; his even messier than usual hair, wide, broad shoulders and strong, haphazardly-shaven jaw couldn’t quite mask his damning look of vulnerability. The two stared at each other for a few seconds, until Cas shifted his gaze and turned around, scuttling down the corridor and out of sight.

With that, all of the elation Dean had been feeling just moments before had somehow disappeared. Had Cas heard the rumours about Dean and Lisa? Or was he still feeling hurt and embarrassed after Dean had rejected his advances just a few days earlier? Whatever the answer was, there was one thing that Dean knew for sure; he had to talk to Castiel.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this has got to be one of my quickest updates ever! I'm kind of surprised at myself (although I guess it's not all that shocking when you consider that I'm pretty much just procrastinating from doing an essay). Hope you enjoy :)

Dean stared down the corridor for a second, wondering what to do. Even though he knew he had to talk to Castiel, he didn’t quite know why or what exactly it was that he wanted to explain to the guy; that he and Lisa hadn’t actually done anything in the closet? Dean reconsidered for a moment as he began to question why this information would be any of Cas’ business in the first place. Perhaps he should just apologise for being so abrasive the other night and leave it at that? Whatever the answer was, Dean no longer had time to ponder upon it as the bell suddenly rang; forcing him out of his stupor and into the reality of double Geography. He shuddered at the thought.

Soon enough, however, lunch time rolled around and Dean was thankful to be able to have some time to himself to just sit in his car and blast out some of his favourite tapes. Furthermore, this way he was able to successfully avoid Jason after their awkward altercation on Saturday night, and the ensuing rumours he had started around school about Dean and Lisa. To celebrate, Dean decided to crack open the windows and light a cigarette. Half-heartedly hoping no teachers would wander into the parking lot and catch him, Dean laid back in his seat, closed his eyes and subjected himself to the head rush the cigarette was causing. In fact, Dean was so relaxed that he almost didn’t hear the loud knock on the passenger side of the car which occurred several minutes later.

“DEAN!” came a loud, assertive voice; causing Dean to stir suddenly as he snapped his eyes open in surprise. Expecting to see a teacher, he was a little shocked to see none other than Castiel Novak standing by the passenger window.

“Cas!” Dean exclaimed, immediately turning down the dial on his stereo.

“Hello, Dean. Can you let me in please?”

Dean was slightly taken aback at this request, but proceeded to comply as he reached over and opened the door, “Uh… sure.” Cas then got into the car and shut the door, choking slightly on the smell of cigarettes. “So, how are you doing?” Dean asked, trying his best to be polite.

“I’m not here to make small talk, Dean,” Cas replied assertively. Dean felt himself blush.

“Oh. So-“

“I just wanted you to know that what happened last week after the movie was a mistake, and I’m sorry. However, that does not give you the right to go around pretending like I don’t exist, or treating me like a piece of dirt on the bottom of your shoe-“

“I know… and I’m sorry Cas, I’ve been tryna find you to tell you that… I feel terrible. Oh, and that thing about Lisa back there? It’s just a rumour, I-“

“What makes you think I care about your teenage fumble with Lisa Braeden?”

Dean was lost for words, “Well, y’see, it wasn’t _actually_ a f-“

“Dean, did you really think I came here to talk to you about your love life?!” Cas retorted, tilting his head.

“Woah… alright, I just thought you oughtta know. Y’know, seeing as you tried it on with me last week. No need to be a dick about it…” Dean sulked.

“I already told you, that was a mistake.”

“Alright, fine! I got it! You can leave now,” Dean retaliated.

“No, I’m not done yet. I did not come here to start a fight, Dean. I just wanted to make sure you know that I’m not going to let my… _emotions_ get the best of me anymore.”

Dean frowned, unsure of what Cas meant. He nodded along with him anyway, “Fine. Whatever, can just we forget this all ever happened now?”

“That works for me.”

“Good,” Dean returned stubbornly before taking a long drag on his cigarette. Castiel began to leave the car, when suddenly Dean’s stomach decided it would be an opportune moment to rumble loudly. Cas paused, his hand on the inner door handle as he looked over at an embarrassed Dean.

There was an awkward pause before Cas spoke, “Have you had your lunch yet?”

“Uh- uh, yeah, I had uh… a cheeseburger,” Dean stuttered.

“They aren’t serving cheeseburgers for lunch today,” Cas replied, an unreadable look in his eyes.

“Yeah, I- I know, I just got it from the take out in town.”

“Dean… lunch only started five minutes ago…” Cas trailed off.

Dean considered for a moment, before getting defensive, “Alright Sherlock, so you got me! I haven’t eaten lunch, so what?”

“Sorry, Dean, I just want to make sure you’re okay. I mean, how much money are you wasting on those cigarettes you smoke, when you could-“

“Oh, don’t give me that. I’m seventeen, I don’t need you parenting me!”

There was another long pause before Castiel replied, “…Is it your Dad?”

“What about him?”

“Well, is he away? I remember he used to go away a lot, back when we were in North Carolina.”

“Well… yeah, but it’s fine. I don’t need him or his money. What do you care, anyway?!”

Cas looked slightly hurt, “we did used to be friends, remember? Or have you conveniently forgotten about the time you temporarily put me in a wheelchair?”

Dean felt both winded and thoroughly pissed off as Castiel got out of the car and walked back towards the school.

“Oh c’mon Cas! I didn’t mean to upset you!” he barrelled across the parking lot, but to no avail. Castiel refused to turn around and continued walking determinedly towards the school.

“Damnit!” Dean exclaimed angrily, throwing his cigarette to the ground and stomping on it, before running his hands through his hair in frustration. He hadn’t meant to cause yet another argument with Cas, but at the same time he couldn’t stand him poking around in his business; asking about his money and whether he’d eaten lunch. Admittedly, John had neglected to leave any cash for his sons whilst he was away, but it wasn’t the first time and certainly wouldn’t be the last. Dean had enough money to get food for Sammy and that was all that mattered. In the meantime, he’d find money somewhere; regardless of what he had to do to find it.

 

* * *

 

By the time afternoon lessons had begun, Dean was in a foul mood. Cas was angry with him, Jason probably wanted to kill him and everywhere he went, students were staring at him. The icing on the cake, however, came at the end of the school day when, just before the final bell rang, the familiar sound of the principal’s voice came booming out of the PA system across the school.

“Good afternoon Truman High, this is your principal speaking.  Now, I’m sure many of you are aware of this already, but it’s Homecoming season! So get on your gladrags and ask that _special person_ if they’ll accompany you on October 5th for the annual Homecoming Dance! I hope to see as many of you there as possible.”

Dean groaned. He supposed he should have seen it coming, however, this didn’t prevent the inhuman squealing of his classmates from being any less annoying. Irritatingly, they were still all squealing as Dean packed up his stuff, ready to leave the classroom, before being stopped in his tracks by a pretty blonde girl he didn’t know the name of.

“Hey Dean! I was wondering if perhaps you’d like-“

“No.”

And with that, Dean shoved his way out of the classroom; ready to go home and pretend this day had never happened.

 

* * *

 

“Hey Dean, when are we having dinner?” came Sam’s voice a few hours later from behind the armchair Dean was sitting on.

“Why, you hungry yet?”

Sam could sense the fatigue in Dean’s voice, “Uh yeah, but it’s fine, I can cook if you want.”

Dean sighed, getting up from his seat, “No, it’s alright. What are you feeling?”

“Erm, pasta, I guess.”

“Alright,” Dean nodded, heading into the kitchen, “Pasta it is”. Sam remained in the living room whilst Dean set about heating some water in a rusty old pot. However, as he went to grab some pasta from the cupboard, his heart sank slightly. It was almost empty; there was barely enough in the bag for Sam alone. ‘Oh well’, Dean thought to himself cynically, ‘it’s not like this hasn’t happened before’.

 

* * *

 

“No sauce?” Sam sulked as Dean handed him his finished pasta.

“Sorry Sammy, ran out this morning,” Dena mumbled guiltily.

Sam frowned, considering Dean for a moment before speaking again, “Where’s yours?”

“Oh, I uh, I ate earlier,” Dean responded, pretending to fidget with a non-existent stain on his jacket cuff.

Sam was unconvinced, “No you didn’t. You picked me up from school and you haven’t had anything since then!”

“Alright, fine, you got me! Look, I’m just not hungry, okay?” Dean replied, laughing awkwardly.

Suddenly, Sam’s look of interrogation was replaced with one of pity, “Oh.”

There was a strange silence in the room as Sam looked at Dean, and Dean stared defiantly at the floor.  Finally, Sam spoke again, “Hey, Dean, we can share my pasta if you want.”

“What? No Sam, don’t be stupid, there’s barely enough there for one person, let alone two.”

“Let me guess, Dad forgot to leave us money, _again_.”

“It’s not like that, Sammy. Besides, he’ll be back soon and I’ll find money. You know I always do.”

“No, Dean. It’s not fair! Dad always does this- leaves us in the lurch, and- and _you_ always have to pick up the pieces! Don’t you realise how ridiculous that is?”

“Sam, stop. You’re getting worked up over nothing. It’s fine, kids my age work all the time-“

“Yeah, but the difference is that they’re working so that they can afford to go to the arcade with their friends, not buy food and pay bills because their stupid father can’t stop drinking and leaving town for long enough to be a parent!”

“Hey! Don’t you talk about Dad like that!” Dean barked angrily.

“Why? What’re you gonna do, send me to jail? Oh wait, I’m already going there!” Sam shouted, his voice cracking slightly.

“No, no, no! Sam, listen to me-you’re not going to jail, okay? You’ve not done anything wrong, you’re not going anywhere,” Dean asserted, trying to reassure himself as well as Sammy.

“Dean, I’m not a little kid anymore, okay? You don’t have to pretend everything’s gonna be okay when it’s not! Besides, you know nothing about what happened that night! You don’t know _anything_!” Sam whimpered loudly, his wide, puppy eyes beginning to water.

And with that, Dean’s anger melted away as he saw his little brother for who he really was; a naïve young boy who was dealing with far too much emotional baggage for a thirteen-year-old. “Look, Sammy… I know you don’t want to tell me what happened that night, but you’re still my brother, and no matter what happens at your hearing, I’m not gonna let you go to jail, okay?”

Sam blubbered slightly, but still managed to give Dean a small, watery smile.

“And I’m not gonna let you starve either, okay? So eat up your pasta and don’t worry about me.”

“But-“

“I said don’t worry, okay? Everything’s gonna be absolutely fine.”

Dean flashed Sam a confident smile and grabbed his shoulder reassuringly, before leaving the room and making his way upstairs, towards the darkened landing and into his bedroom. For a while, he just stood still in the middle of his bedroom; his brain numb from everything that had happened throughout the day, until eventually he climbed into his bed, still fully clothed, and reached into his pocket for a cigarette.

Except there were none. He had finally run out, and with no money remaining to buy another packet, he was left to his own, uninterrupted thoughts. On the one hand, his day hadn’t been as bad as it could have been; after all, Lisa had forgiven him for what happened at her party and had even kissed him on the cheek. Yet, on the other hand, his undeniable hunger reminded him sorely of the mess he was in both with his family life and with Cas. It seemed that, no matter how hard he tried to make things right, things only seemed to get worse, and he was sick of it. Although he hated himself for thinking it, he knew deep down that Sam was right; he didn’t deserve what his father put on him. And furthermore, he knew that Cas didn’t deserve to be treated by Dean the way he had; he was just looking out for his friend, yet Dean had returned his mature gesture with unnecessary hostility. And so there he lay, staring at the ceiling; knowing he should have been directing his frustration towards his father, but still choosing to direct it towards himself.  


End file.
